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The School of 

Landscape Architecture 







Boston: 9 Pabk Stbbbt 


School of 

landscape architecture 

harvard university 



]PuiiU0|)tog Commttter* 





CHARLES E. FAY, Editor of Appalachia. 



ALBERT S. PARSONS, Business Agent. 





exttVLttot Commttter. 

Charles E. Fat. Albert S. Parsons. 

Isabel C. Barrows. 



Sfkcial Papers. 


F, O. Carpenter. A day and night on the Benton Range . . 128 

F. H. Chapin. The first ascent of a glacier in Colorado ... 1 

Ascents of the Breithorn and Mont Blanc . . 38 

The ascent of Long's Peak 109 

YpsilonPeak 175 

E. B, Cook. Mountains near the New Zealand Notch . . . 194 

J, R. Edmanda. Topographical contributions 121 

C. E. Fay. Through San Luis Park to Sierra Blanca ... 261 

F. W. Freeborn. Some Adirondack paths 222 

T. W. Higginson. A June migration 23 

R. B. Lawrence. Etaadn Basin 26 

Dedicatory visit to the Madison-Spring Hut . 312 

P. Lowell. A visit to Shirane San 87 

W. H. Peek. An exploration of the Pilot range .... 30, 215 

MUn L. A. Putnam. The crater of Mt. Misery, St. Kitts . . 200 

Mrs. L. D. Pychowska. Walking-dress for ladies 28 

Miss M. M. Pychowska. Two in the Alpine pastures . . . 184 

J. Ritchie^ Jr. On snow-shoes at Jackson 208 

5. H. Scudder. The White Mountains as a home for butterflies 13 

Mrs. Q. W. Thacher. Alpine flowers of Colorado .... 284 
W. Upham. Glaciation of mountains in New England and 

New York 291 

Ascents of Camel's Hump and Lincoln Mountain, 

Vermont 319 

Communications to thb Councillors- 


W. M. Beaman. Notes of two ascents of Mt. Carr .... 153 

F. O. Carpenter. The Benton Range 151 

F. H. Chapin. A trip to Sierra Blanca 239 

C. E. Fay. An ascent of Mt. Shavano 236 

G. C. Mann. Huntington's Ravine 242 

O. H. Witherle. Explorations in the vicinity of Mt. Etaadn . 147 











Vol. V. BOSTON, DECEMBER, 1887. No. 1. 

The First Ascent of a Glacier in Colorado. 

By F. H. Chapin. 

Bead Octobor 12, 1887. 

The Mummy is an immense mountain in northern Colorado, 
lying directly north of Long's Peak and in line with the cen- 
tre of Estes Park. It is a spur range running out to the 
eastward from a point where the Front Range, Rabbit Ear, and 
Medicine Bow Mountains nearly meet It has its name from 
its fancied resemblance to an Egyptian mummy reclining at 
full length, and the range has been so called for many years. 
The highest point, Hague's Peak (13,832 feet. King), forms 
the head, and a height about two miles farther to the west 
marks the knees, of the seeming prostrate figure.^ 

On the north side of this west peak of Mummy Mountain is 
a large snow-field, of unusual interest on account of recent 
developments regarding its true character. It was discovered 
only a few years ago by a hunter named Israel Rowe, and in 
the following manner : It was in the time of the great grass- 
hopper raid, when these insects flew over the range from Utah 

1 The finest distant view which I obtained of this rnnge is the one shown in 
Plate IL Prospect Mountain rises from the middle of Estes Park to a height 
of 2,000 feet above the valley. The west peak of Mummy and Hague's Peak, 
the distant mountains in the middle of the picture, are respectively twelve and 
ten miles distant in an air line from Prospect ; and the walls of Black Cafion, 
the cliffs to the right, are three miles away. 



to Colorado ; myriads of them fell on the snow-fields in their 
passage, and many bears went up from the rocks to feed upon 
them. Hunters learning of this went up also to shoot the 
bears ; and in such an -expedition Rowe discovered what he 
called " the largest snow-field in the Rockies." Later he took 
two other hunters to see it. He afterward died while on a 
long hunt, but before his death mentioned this interesting dis- 
covery to Mr. W. L. Hallett, the leader of our expeditions of 
last summer to Table Mountain and other peaks of Colorado. 
Four years ago Mr. Hallett visited it entirely alone, and nearly 
lost his life under circumstances which led him to wonder 
whether this snow-field might not be a glacier. 

I had seen many snow-fields in the Rocky Mountains, but none 
where the body and weight of the snow were sufficient to form 
a true glacier ; therefore, hearing Mr. Hallett's story, I was 
very anxious to have an opportunity to ascend the Mummy, 
and, relying on my knowledge gained in Alpine climbs, deter- 
mine the nature of this one, — a desire which happily I was 
able to realize. At the time of my visit the great snow-field 
had probably never been seen by other than the persons above 
referred to, not only because so little had been said about it, 
but also on account of the distance and the difficulty of reach- 
ing it. The expedition requires parts of three days, and few 
travellers have the facilities for carrying provisions and blan- 
kets so far. Our leader, however, seeing that our ambition 
was unflagging, offered to show the possible glacier to another 
member of the Appalachian Mountain Club ^ and myself ; and 
so, on Monday, August 1, a folding mattress, blankets, provi- 
sions, axe, and coffee-pot — in short, a complete camping-outfit 
— were packed on Tom, the mule, and mounting our horses 
at 1 P. M., and leading Tom behind us, we rode away from Fer- 
guson's Ranch (our headquarters in Estes Park) toward the 
Black Canon. I carried, strapped to the back of my saddle, a 
camera and tripod, and a package of sensitized dry plates. It 
had been my intention to take some stakes also, and to run a 
line of them across the snow-field for future observation, but 
I found that it was all that I could possibly do to carry my 
photographic apparatus to that altitude. 
1 Mr. George W. Thacher. 








Our trail led up through the caflon, under enormous cliffs 
on the right, than which there are few finer, though on the 
left or south side the steep walls are lacking. Above the 
cailon the trail winds to the left, high above the brook, and 
runs between two mountains thickly clad with spnice. It is 
identical with the one leading to Lawn Lake. From there on, 
however, there is no trail, and even to this point there was 
no sign of the path's having been traversed for a year. Our 
leader showed great skill in guiding us among bowlders and 
through tangled dwarf spruce over the ridge of Mummy Moun- 
tain to a good camping-place. 

In crossing the ridge east of the Mummy's head, we had 
gone far above timber-line, but now had dropped down sev- 
eral hundred feet into the black spruce on the north side, in 
order to get firewood. This dwarf evergreen is very peculiar. 
The trees are not more than shoulder high, but the trunks, in 
many cases, are a foot or two in thickness. We found plenty 
of dead wood for our fire, and after unloading we picketed 
our animals in good feed and had our supper. This was 
chiefly from cold supplies, for we cooked nothing on the trip 
except coffee and toast. The altitude of our camp was about 
eleven thousand feet. The full moon shone brightly, and the 
night was very clear. We could see very easily the star e Lyrae 
as double, much plainer indeed than I ever saw it as such at 
sea-level. Our big blazing fire must have been seen from the 
plains far away. As a general rule hunters in the West do 
not make large fires, contradicting in this respect the Indian 
saying that " white man make heap big fire, git way off ; Injun 
make little bit fire, stay close by." The hunters do not sleep 
by a fire, but depend upon blankets and canvas covers for 

We turned in early, slept well, and were up before the sun, 
that we might see it rise out of the plains. And such a 
sunrise as we beheld ! The flat country of Larimer County 
is covered with lakes ; and as the sun came up we counted 
thirty-five small sheets of water glistenuig in its bright rays. 
The sky was clear, except high in the east, where a mass 
of clouds was gorgeously colored. First picketing our ani- 
mals in a new place, we then had our own breakfast. We 


had aimed to make an early start, but with all our expedi- 
tiousness we did not get our animals saddled and under us 
until seven o'clock. 

We had considerable difficulty in getting through the dwarf 
spruce, which was very thick. The heavy snows of winter 
bow down the tops, leaving them one mass of tangled branches 
and twigs, while under the trees the footing for the horses is 
very rough. However, in half an hour we were out of the 
small timber, and riding over a smooth grassy surface by the 
side of a deep gorge on our right, which was surmounted by 
steep cliffs and a large snow-field. The gorge was a wild, 
desolate scene, it being the former pathway of a glacier ; down 
through it rocks were piled upon rocks for miles. 

We reached the limits of the grass patches at nine o'clock, 
and could ride no fartheri Leaving the horses, we walked up 
the rather steep ascent, arriving at the foot of the snow-field 
in an hour. We had seen the upper snows for two hours, but 
had no view of the whole mass until we were right upon it ; 
for an immense rocky ridge heaped high around the base 
hides three quarters of tlie snow-field until it is surmounted. 
All at once this scene burst upon us. A steep snow-bank ex- 
tended about a thousand feet above to the top of the mountain. 
The water which had collected at its base had been frozen 
again, — not solidly, but with occasional open spaces in which 
large blocks of ice were floating around. As the force of the 
wind moved them, they were lifted up by rocks or firmer ice 
from beneath, creaking and groaning; then broken up into 
fragments, but only to form new floes. Tlie long line of the 
lower edge of the ice and snow curled over in beautiful comb- 
ings as it hung over the open water. 

The snow expanse is about half a mile in width, and entirely 
fills a kind of amphitheatre made by the main range of the 
Mummy and a spur which extends around to the northeast. 
In some places it makes the sky-line, but for the most part 
pointed rocks and towers jut up from the snow. One shaft, 
which we judged twenty feet in height, could not have been 
more than twelve inches in diameter at the base, and was of 
pure white quartz. The more easily decomposed granite had 
fallen away, leaving this firmer vein of rock standing alone. 

Vi*^w of thf glrtc'lfr from the middle toiwaTda the left (south) si(J(\ 



the riebt (north) tiil«. 

View from the tedgea above the glacier. 


The whole extent of the snow was covered with grooves, mark- 
ings, and cracks ; a large crevasse began near the south end 
and extended a long way into the centre, and close examinar 
tion revealed many more above and below it, running parallel 
with it. The longest of these was about a hundred feet above 
the water at the southern extremity.^ 

A single glance at the series of crevasses was enough to 
convince me that we looked upon a glacier, and further exam- 
ination of the ice confirmed the first impression. The great 
ridge upon which we stood was evidently a terminal moraine 
formed by the glacier in past ages. What debris comes down 
with the ice at the present time must fall into the lake. 
The surface of the glacier, however, is remarkably free from 
stones and bowlders, caused, as we afterward determined, by 
the fact that the loosened masses above the ice fall to the 
west down the much steeper rock-fall of the mountain ; yet 
at one point the ledges are breaking away toward the glacier, 
and a few bowlders are already embedded in the ice and are 
on their way down the slide. 

Having taken two pictures of the glacier and lake from 
the moraine, accompanied by our leader, I carried the camera 
back from the ice and took a more distant view ; meanwhile 
the Appalachian had strolled along to the south end to look 
at the big crevasse. It seemed desirable to secure three nega- 
tives of this section of the ice ; but as we had only one sensi- 
tized plate with us, I started back to the foot of the glacier, 
where we had left the lunch and other luggage, for another 
plate-holder containing two plates. And now an episode oc- 
curred which for the time being quite eclipsed the pleasurable 
excitement of our discovery with one of a more thrilling, if 
less agreeable sort. I had gone about half-way when my 
companion called out, " A bear ! a bear ! come here quick ! '* 
I turned, ran back, and saw an immense range grizzly standing 
on a rock about two hundred feet from us ; he had just come 

^ Our leader said that when he risited the place four years before there 
were larger icebergs in the water. It is erident how these were formed ; for 
when the large crevasses, near the water, are crowded toward the lake, the 
masses of ice must fall off into it, repeating on a small scale what happens when 
the ice-masBes fall from the Humboldt glacier into the Arctic Ocean. 
















out from behind a huge bowlder. I took his picture as quick- 
ly as possible. This was probably the first time that " old 
Ephraim " had ever had his pic- 
ture taken in his own haunts; 
and if he could only have known 
what was required of him, he 
might just as well have sat for 
it. I then saw the Appalachian 
standing very near to the bear, 
but back of him, looking at him 
through his field-glass as coolly 
as could be. The bear was of 

tremendous size, and must have weighed a thousand pounds. 
His color was, for the most part, brown, but his back and the 
top of his head appeared nearly white. He was of the species 
called by the hunters silver-tipped grizzly; and as the sun 
was shining very brightly directly upon his back, the reflec- 
tion was such as to give it a silvery-white appearance. He 
was evidently trying to make up his mind whether to come 
down to us and take his lunch, or betake himself off up the 
mountain, — or, as the local phrase has it, " pull his freight." 
I had not thought of the bear's attacking us, though I had 
wondered at the Appalachian's coolness, but now the beast 
was growling and snapping. Suddenly my companion sug- 
gested, " Suppose he should decide to come and take us." 
Then I proposed that I go for the other plates, and that he get 
his shotgun, our only weapon, at the same time, and load it 
with buckshot. "That would not be of much use," he an- 
swered ; " but we can do one thing. Here, take this knife ! " 
and he drew a large butcher-knife from his belt and handed 
it to me. " If he turns on us, I will wait till his nose touches 
the muzzle of the gun before I let him have it, and you must 
do the best you can for yourself with the knife ; this will be 
our only salvation, but it will take lots of nerve to await the 
proper moment to shoot." Our motions were so lively that 
when we got back to our position by the camera, the bear had 
decided to move off, and was soon out of sight behind a ridge, 
giving a sort of snort as he turned away. Our fear was now 
that he would run down the mountain to where the horses and 


mule were tethered and stampede them. If the animals should 
get a sight of the bear they would break their legs or necks 
in trying to escape. This catastrophe must be averted at all 
hazards, for without the pack mule we could never carry the 
camera and plates back to camp before nightfall, and a night 
at this elevation, without blankets, would be horrible. We 
started at a brisk run over the rocks, hoping to head him o£P. 
But he travelled so rapidly that before we saw him again he 
had covered a great distance in a circle around us, and was 
about three hundred feet below our position, crossing a large 
snow-field, and luckily headed away from the horses. He 
stopped, turned, and looked at us. Standing out on the white 
snow-field, with steep ledges and jagged cliffs rising high in 
the background, his figure was certainly very picturesque. 
It was impossible to photograph him, as he was so far below 
us ; so my companion asked, — 

*• Shall I give him a shot ? " 

*' Pepper him," I responded. 

" He may turn on us." 

" Pepper him," I said again. 

Bang went the gun, and the beast jumped. Bang! another 
charge of buckshot followed, and the bear gave another leap 
forward, although the effect of the shot was probably no more 
upon him than the cut of a whip would have been if given 
near at hand. However, the shot so accelerated his gait that 
he probably reached Wyoming in a very short time, for he 
went up the side of the mountain on a run, and was over the 
top of the ridge and out of sight in ten minutes. I watched 
him for a moment on the ground glass of the camera, and his 
figure looked like that of a rat running up a wall. This quick- 
ness of motion in a beast of such bulk was marvellous ; for 
later in the day it took us over an hour to gain an equal 
height, climbing over similar rocks. One can judge how 
utterly powerless we should have been if the conditions had 
been reversed and we had been chased by the bear. 

The bear being disposed of, we returned to the glacier and 
roped ourselves together for an investigation of the surface of 
the ice, using a forty-foot lariat for the purpose, so that we 
had about twenty feet of rope between us. Then we crossed 


the snow to the big crevasse. This was fifteen feet wide in 
some places, and twenty to thirty feet deep, and large icicles 
hung down from the upper edges. After securing photographs 
of this, we went back to the rocks, where the Appalachian 
threw off the rope and separated himself from us to climb the 
final peak by the ledges. Our leader and I tied ourselves 
together again, and began the ascent to the ridge by the 

In Switzerland I had been guided over many glaciers, and 
on one occasion had had the sensation of dangling on the edge 
of a crevasse into which I had fallen ; but never before had I 
led in crossing a large snow-field, or assumed any responsi- 
bility. The crossing of this glacier looked easy and simple, 
and one not accustomed to ice-work would have probably 
laughed at the idea of using a rope ; but my experience told 
me that the crevasse, which seemed to end abruptly, probably 
extended under the smooth snow for a long distance, and we 
might strike it or some other cleft in the ice in any part of the 
glacier that we might cross. And then there was our leader's 
former adventure, to which I have already alluded. He was 
all alone, and ascending on the north side, trying to reach the 
curious shafts which stand as sentinels over that part of the 
ice. He was getting along all right, when, suddenly, he broke 
through the bridge of a hidden crevasse. Luckily, the ice was 
firm at the rim on both sides, so that he held up by his elbows 
and managed to extricate himself. Safely out, he ran down 
the mountain, determined never to venture on the snow again 
without help. 

We had no ice-axe. The snow was in the condition of 
nSvi^ and very firm. I used my camera tripod for a feeler, 
and often could send it down deep in treacherous places; 
but we kept to a sort of arite^ and by stamping foot-holes 
made some progress. It was very slow, however, as every 
step must be made, and the incline grew steeper as we ad- 
vanced. If the snow had been in a more icy condition, we 
could never have reached the ledges without an axe, and as 
it was we had to make detours to avoid glare ice. From 
the summit of the ar6te we jumped over a suspicious bit of 
ice to the rocks, and congratulated ourselves that we were 


the first to tread upon these upper snows.^ The ledges we 
found very narrow and broken up into towers and spires. 
The west side of the peak was an indescribably wild scene, 
such as I had never beheld ; there were precipices and gorges, 
masses of rock and bowlders, smooth cliffs, rough-hewn tow- 
ers, and below us several thousand feet was a gem of a moun- 
tain park, with a silver stream winding through it for miles 
down to the Poudre. Encircling the whole were snow-clad 
mountains of the Rabbit Ear and Medicine Bow Ranges, and 
beyond was the Park Range, filling the western horizon with 
its mountains piled upon mountains. Part of the wonder and 
delight of the scene was caused by the fact that we were look- 
ing upon an almost unknown land as we gazed into the west. 
The meadows at our feet, walled in by high mountains, are 
very difficult to get into with pack animals; hence over and 
among the far mountains there is not a settlement until Utah 
is reached. 

Unlike some of the difficult Swiss peaks, there is always 
some easy way of access to the high crests of the Rocky 
Mountains ; but there is hard climbing to be found, if that is 
sought. To any mountaineer in search of such work, I would 
suggest that he ascend the Mummy glacier by an arete on the 
north side to the point where the shafts of rock are standing, 
then descend the mountain to the deep glen below, being care- 
ful to take provisions for two days from camp. After explor- 
ing the valley at its upper limit, let him ascend the west peak 
of the Mummy from that side directly to the summit, and I 
fancy he will have need of steadiness of head and strength of 

We began to make the remainder of the climb of the peak 
by the broken ledges, and found our way difficult. The rocks, 
broken and shattered, afforded poor hold, and if once they gave 
way, went spinning to the lake below with a whir and a crash 

^ After our return to Estes Park Mr. Hallett and I spoke of the glader as 
the "Mummy Glacier/' but now I am disposed, with Professor Stone of the 
College of Colorado, who visited it later in the season, to call it "Hallett Gla- 
cier." The most symmetrical and beautiful peak of the Front Range, as seen 
from Estes Park, bears the name " Mt. Hallett" Dr. E. 0. Otis, of Boston, and 
I so christened the peak when on its tummit la July, 1887. 


that made us realize what would be the result should we fall 
from these heights. We had to help each other with boosts 
and pulls; for sometimes there were no firm rocks within 
reach, as we felt for them over the edges of platforms above 
us. It was not easy to get the gun and camera up ; so finally, 
after passing the edge of the ice, which was too treacherous 
to venture upon at this point, we were forced to take the face 
of the mountain, by which we had an easy route to the summit. 

The rocks on the top of the Mummy have an entirely dif- 
ferent appearance from those of any other summit in the 
Rocky Mountains on which I have stood. On Pike's Peak, 
Bald Mountain, Long's Peak, Table Mountain, and on many 
of the lesser peaks, the slabs of granite are strewn around or 
heaped up in piles, while here there is little debris, for the 
rocks are arranged in laminss with edges up, and present a 
saw-like appearance ; the mountain drops oS on all sides, ex- 
cepting the ridge to the northwest, in noble ledges flanked by 
massive towers. 

We were more than an hour upon the summit ; the atmos- 
phere was of rare transparency, and the view seemed limitless. 
Mountain ranges far into Wyoming were clearly seen ; Pike's 
Peak rose in the south, and peaks farther away to the south- 
west ; but here, as from the ledges below, the chief joy was in 
looking toward the sierras of the west. This was the only 
peak upon which we had not found a cairn, and I doubt if it 
had ever been climbed before. 

It was four o'clock when we left the summit, and ran down 
the face of the peak to where we had left our traps and extra 
plates. Collecting these, we walked to the north side of the 
glacier and climbed about half-way up. Part of the south 
side of the glacier is in shadow early in the afternoon, and on 
that account is very smooth and firm, while the north end is 
exposed to the sun's rays from early morning till much later 
in the afternoon ; consequently, the heat has so melted the 
upper snows that the water runs down and causes the deep 
grooves seen in the illustration (Plate I., frontispiece). 
While we had been examining the formation and shape of the 
curious ridges of snow, the sun had been obscured by high 
drifting clouds. Suddenly it came out with dazzling bright- 


ness, and we beheld a remarkable shadow profile cast upon 
the pure white snow by the sculptured rocks. At first it was 
a startling apparition, and we stood there transfixed with awe 
as we gazed upon it, shading our eyes with our hands. The 
length of the profile traced on tlie snow by the varying shadow 
was fully a hundred feet. The lines were clearly defined. 
Of course it can only be seen at a certain hour on sunny 
afternoons. The day is far distant when throngs of tourists 
will stream up the gorge to see the one true glacier of Colo- 
rado, and by that time perhaps the granite rocks will have 
crumbled away, worn by rain and cracked by frost, and the 
profile which we saw will have vanished. Meanwhile many 
will doubtless be glad that we succeeded in securing a photo- 
graph of the strange and beautiful scene. 

It was now five o'clock. We reluctantly turned away from 
the glacier, and scrambling over the moraine to the large snow- 
field where the bear had crossed, we glissaded down for sev- 
eral hundred feet, then took to the rocks, and soon reached our 
horses and mule. On the way down, we shot seven ptarmigans. 
We reached camp at dark in a very tired condition, but a cup 
of strong cofiFee so revived us that in an hour we were con- 
tentedly lying before the blaze, the thick hedge of spruce tim- 
ber at our backs keeping off the strong blasts of wind. Then 
we told stories of bear, and stories of elk, and stories of " big- 
horn," and smoked the pipe of peace. 

Spruce firewood will always crack and snap, and this night 
the sparks rose high, carried far up by the wild wind, and then 
whisked down the deep gulch toward the plains. As I lay 
there looking at the black line of cliffs surrounding us, and 
then into the dancing flames, I thought of camp-fires long 
since burned out, of blazing pines in dark forests, of nights 
in deserted log-cabins in the West or in the stone-roofed chdlet 
in the far-away Alps. Then from the heights and distance 
came memories of moraine, crevasse, and berffschrund, of ex- 
panse of snow, of bowlder waste and the wary " big-horn," of 
spires of rock and domes of ice, and, loosing my hold on con- 
sciousness in this strange chaos, I slipped beneath the canvas 
and was soon asleep. 


The White Mountains as a Home for Butterflies. 

(With a Map, — Plate IV.) 
By Samuel H. Scudder. 

Bead Not. 9, 1887. 

There is no spot in New England where an Aurelian can 
obtain such successful results in a brief time as in the high 
valleys of the White Mountain region. Not only are many 
butterflies which elsewhere are rare, or abundant only in very 
restricted localities, to be obtained here, but they occur in the 
greatest profusion, more than making amends for the less 
favorable weather which is apt to interfere with collecting 
in nciountainous localities. Fi*om the latter part of May until 
late in September one is always rewarded for a few days' 

Perhaps it is because my visits have mainly been to that 
spot that I have found the " Glen " the most favorable region. 
Here, in a valley running north and south, at an elevation 
of about 2,000 feet, following in one direction the valley of 
the Peabody, and in the other that of the Ellis, in a densely 
wooded region with high mountains on either side sloping 
down to the narrow valley, with considerable clearings in 
the river bottom, where cultivated patches, pastures, swampy 
tracts, hillsides overgrown with shrubbery, and damp and 
shaded forest roads are to be met with, nearly all the condi- 
tions for abundant insect-life are to be found at their best. 
More than this, a wagon road, eight miles in length, winding 
half-way through the primeval forest, where it forms a broad 
lane which the butterflies covet, half-way over the rough 
ledges and sedgy plateaus of the treeless upper region of our 
highest mountain, where flowers are blooming all through 
the season to captivate the tired traveller, — this road affords 
a ready means of learning at what altitude the valley species 
ascend, and what kinds inhabit the inhospitable higher levels 
of the mountains. 

Let us speak first of those which belong in the valleys, 
where the vegetation is so profuse and diversified; and re- 


strict our remarks principally to those which are commonest 
here, and met with more rarely elsewhere, — those which 
have, so far as New England is concerned, their maximum 
development in this district. 

It is the region par excellence of that striking butterfly, 
Basilarchia arthemia. When the stage, with its city freight, 
winding its way over the hilly roads with the first rush of 
travel, leaves most of the farms behind it and enters the 
heart of the forest, flock after flock of these showy butterflies 
arise from the damp spots in the road where, sometimes by 
hundreds, they are assembled to suck the moisture from the 
earth, and then flutter about the stage in fascinating bewil- 
derment, settling again to the feast in a hesitating way as 
soon as the disturbance is past. Indeed they sometimes be- 
come a very nuisance, dozens of them when seeking a shelter 
entering the open doors and windows of the farm-houses, and 
fluttering about the windows in a vain and distracting attempt 
to escape when there is any movement within. 

In the early season, when the buds are just beginning to 
burst, the young caterpillar may be found emerging from its 
hibernaculum deftly fastened near the tips of black-birch sprigs 
everywhere growing by the roadside; in July, the bristling 
globular egg attached to the extreme tip of the pointed leaf 
of the same, and later the leaves eaten in peculiar fashion, 
reveal where to look for the grotesque party-colored caterpillar, 
scarcely to be distinguished from that of its congener, B. di- 
aippe. The latter is also common (though less common than 
in southern New England), prefers the willow and the poplar, 
and may be found feeding even up to the extreme limit of 
forest vegetation on the mountain side. 

This, too, is the New England metropolis for that high- 
spirited butterfly, Polygonia faunuB. Unlike arthemis^ it is 
never found in flocks, but only by threes and fours at most, 
keeping up a constant warfare with one another ; but it is still 
so common along the roads, and particularly in the more open 
spots, or where the roads enter bits of forest or cross a moun- 
tain brook, that, notwithstanding its wary activity, one may 
even capture in favorable times a hundred in a day ; once I 
must have seen five hundred in a single railway ride of six 


miles in the forest on the western side of Mt. Washington be- 
tween Fabyan's and the base of the mountain. Its caterpillar 
— also party-colored, but bristling with spines — may be found 
both on the black birches and the willows. Where both these 
plants are found in such abundance, search would seem to be 
vain, but if it is confined to such sprays of the smaller plants 
as project forward toward the road — such spots indeed as the 
butterflies select to alight upon — the patient search will be 
rewarded. Another Polygoniay far rarer, P. gracilis^ I had 
until this year taken only here and on the opposite side of 
Mt. Washington, perhaps a couple of dozen in all in as many 
years ; and it is almost its only known locality in New England, 
though it doubtless occurs in many other elevated regions 
favorable for P. f annus. This year it has been tolerably com- 
mon, and was found to occupy a distinctly lower zone, below 
2,500 feet. P. progne is also common, belongs properly to the 
same zone, and I have taken its larva here on the wild goose- 
berry. Eugenia j. -album is another butterfly common in cer- 
tain seasons at least, and I should consider this its favorite 
New England ground, were it not that one night it flew by 
hundreds into Sankaty lighthouse on Nantucket, where in 
several summers' residence on the island I never saw it at 
any other time. Papilio antiopa is also common enough at the 
White Mountains, but not much more so than elsewhere. One 
may generally see a dozen on a good day in early June, — seedy- 
looking individuals which have survived the winter. Aglaia 
milberti is also common in the lower country, feeding in 
swarms upon the nettles; and this concludes the series of 
Nymphalidi which need be mentioned. 

Arggnnia atlantia occurs here in the utmost profusion, as 
nowhere else in New England. One may easily take hundreds 
in a single day, the sandalwood-scented males largely pre- 
dominating. Brenthis myrina and B. hellona are abundant 
in the restricted meadow-lands, and in about equal numbers, 
though B. myrina is far more common in central New Eng- 
land. But the region is one of the best for most of our 
Melitandi. Phyciodes hatesii occurs here early in June, and 
this is its only known New England locality. P. tharos swarms 
(as it also does elsewhere), and this is the best place to 


fiearch for those very local species, Cindidia harrisit and 
EuphydryaB phaeton. They can best be obtained in the larval 
state, for they may always be taken in large numbers very 
early in the spring in such conveniently accessible spots as 
the immediate borders of the Glen road, harrisii feeding in 
large companies on Diplopappus and phaeton scarcely more 
dispersed on Lonicera. 

I have never paid special attention to the Theclidi in this 
region, nor had them force themselves on my notice ; so that 
I am inclined to think none of them particularly abundant, 
or more so than elsewhere. Nor are any of the Cupididi ex- 
ceptionally common, excepting Ct/aniriSj which is certainly 
far commoner — especially C. pseudargiolus lucia — than any- 
where else in New England, abundant as it often is. The 
roads seem at times blue with them, and they swarm at all 
moist spots, occurring also to the very edge of the forest line, 
and enchanting the early pedestrian at every step. They are 
also one of the earliest risers, and are the first to be seen 
when the clouds break after a rain. Of the Chry%ophanidi^ 
Heodea hjpophlceas is of course abundant, as everywhere, and 
Feniseca tarquinius may always be found in its time at the 
proper places ; there is one isolated copse, with alder (every- 
where growing in profusion), just north of the Glen House, 
where I never fail to see it fluttering about when in season. 

Among the Pierince, Eurymus philodice and Pierist rapce 
are of course abundant enough. I shall be surprised if E. lau- 
rentina does not some day turn up here, escaping the net only 
because no one takes so common an insect as its congener, 
which it resembles too much on the wing to be readily distin- 
guished from it. The only interesting form of this group 
found here is PierU oleracea. Though nowhere nearly so 
common as thirty years ago, when I first collected at the 
mountains, when one might see fifty at a time in an open 
field, it is not yet quite exterminated by the invading P. rapce, 
and in the very first of the season, when a dozen or so may 
be taken in a day, is as common as that species ; but with the 
advanced season it appears quite lost among the swarms of 
the latter. It seems probable it will always hold out in this, 
its New England stronghold. 


None of the swallow-tails are pre-eminently abundant, with 
the single exception of Jasoniades tumiLS. But this is indeed 
an exception. Early in June of any year one may take a 
dozen or twenty with a single sweep of the net at moist 
places by the roadside, or if cautious enough pick up with 
the fingers one specimen after another till he wearies of 
the task. It never fails to be abundant, and its great size 
and social habits make it appear the commonest butterfly 
of the region. The males appear to vastly outnumber the 

The skippers may be dismissed with a few words, as most 
of them may be found equally abundant elsewhere ; but this 
is certainly the best place I know for obtaining Thanaos iceluSj 
and is probably the best for securing those rarer forms, Cycla- 
pides mandaity and Amblyscirtes samoaet, though they are 
never very abundant, while A. vialis is always to be met with 
early in June. 

These are the more interesting of the valley butterflies of 
the White Mountains, found in much greater abundance than 
elsewhere; but they form but a small part of those which 
abound here, and the real interest centres in noting to what 
height any of them may be found. For this the open heads 
of the great ravines which seem to gnaw at the very vitals of 
the great mountain masses, and the wagon road up Mt. Wash- 
ington on one side, and the broad railway-cutting at the other, 
forming as they do highways for butterfly as well as man, are 
the most interesting and instructive spots. Prominent among 
those which may be found, and which probably or certainly 
pass their lives in any part of the forest region, however ele- 
vated, where there are open spaces, are Basilarchia disippe, 
already mentioned in this way, the Polygonias^ and Cyaniris 
pseudargiolu%. These not infrequently even fly far above these 
natural limits, and have been taken or seen upon the highest 
points. Indeed many insects are the veriest Appalachians, 
seeming to take a delight in exploring the summits. This is 
truer of some other insects than of butterflies, and perhaps 
they are borne upward by the currents ; for in the first week 
of June I have found the great snow-patches at the very sum- 
mit of Mt. Washington fairly peppered with numerous small 



insects, prominent among which were thousands upon thou- 
sands of delicate-winged plant-lice. Of the butterflies alone 
which I have found upon the very highest summits are ( be- 
sides two species to be mentioned, characteristic of the moun- 
tain top) the following: Basilarchia disippey B. arthemisj 
Polygonia interrogationisj P. faunuSy P. gracilisy Eugonia 
j.-album^ Papilio antiopa, Aglais milbertiy Argt/nnis atlantisj 
Brenthis myrinay B. bellona, Phgciodes tharoSj Cganiris pseur 
dargioluSj Pieris rapcBj Jasoniadea tumuSj Thanaon icelus^ 
and Limochores taumas, — in all, nineteen species. 

It will require still a good deal of field-work to determine 
how far up the mountain side these forms habitually breed ; 
for, as given, the list is merely that of stragglers of an inquisi- 
tive turn of mind. 

It is far more interesting, perhaps the most interesting 
point in the geographical distribution of New England butter- 
flies, to find that there are two butterflies living exclusively 
on these inclement mountain heights, waifs left by the receding 
tide of ice from the last glacial epoch. One of them, (Eneis 
semidea, is known elsewhere only on the summit of the 
highest peaks of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, where it 
does not appear, apparently, below an elevation of about 
12,000 feet, above which, and up to 14,000 feet, I have taken 
it on Mt. Lincoln, Sierra Blanca, and at the Argentine Pass, 
and Mr. Mead has captured it at Twin Lakes. It is, however, 
regarded by some as only a variety of a species found farther 
north ; but whether variety or species, it has characteristics 
which separate it from the North Labrador type, while the 
Coloradan and New Hampshire forms are inseparable. It is 
therefore either a distinct species or well on the road to it ; 
and so far as its interest in this connection goes, it matters 
little in which light it be viewed. The other species, Brentfiis 
montmuSy will, in my judgment, certainly be found beyond 
the great range of the White Mountains, whence only it is so 
far known. I should look for it confidently above the forest 
line in the Adirondacks, in the Green Mountains, and on 
Ktaadn, as well as other elevated and barren heights. It has 
been reported as seen on Black Mountain near Thornton, N. H., 
which is wooded to the summit ; but an actual capture would 


be necessary to establish such a fact. It, too, is regarded by 
some as merely a variety of another species found farther 
north, and this northern species occurs as near as southern 
Labrador and Anticosti, and ranges across the country to 
Great Slave Lake. It is, however, separable from it, and 
whether to be looked on as a distinct species or merely as a 
variety is a pure matter of individual idiosyncrasy. The ques- 
tion is similar to the preceding, but at present receives no 
side-light from the West. 

Now, the very genera into which these two butterflies fall 
have an altogether special interest, of great significance in 
this connection. They are exclusively or largely arctic gen- 
eraj of which only three others are known among butterflies.^ 
(Eneis occurs elsewhere only in high mountain regions, and, 
-with but one or two exceptions, above forest limits, whether 
toward the pole or the zenith. On the other hand, though 
species of Brenthis have been found as far north as butterflies 
are known, almost indeed on the very shores of the Arctic 
Ocean beyond Greenland, it is represented more largely by 
species occurring in the temperate zones. In keeping with 
this distribution of the genera, the White Mountain (Eneia is 
not only confined to the barren summits of the range, but 
even to the higher parts of this limited region, although its 
food plant, Carex, is found everywhere above the forest. The 
White Mountain BrenthiSj on the other hand, rarely or never 
occurs in the same district as (EneiSj being almost entirely 
confined to the lower half of the region above the forest ; its 
food plant is not known. 

One will hardly fail to notice that while the forest line on 
the mountains is tolerably well marked (at a height of about 
4,000 or 4,600 feet), it is always succeeded above by a consid- 
erable area, where the dwarfed spruce or " scrub," struggling 
upward with ever diminishing height, conceals the gray rocks 
in a covering of uniform green, excepting on the unstable sur- 
faces of the steeper slopes, — an area which is strongly con- 
trasted with the barren gray broken rocks above, which lie 
piled in vast heaps exposed to full view, except where a patch 

^ The others are Erthia, AgriadeSj and Eurymva. 


of sedge furnishes a small aud barren pasture upon some more 
favored plateau. The sides of the White Mountains, where 
they rise to their highest culmination,* are thus divisible into 
a forest and an alpine region, and the latter into a lover, or 
scrub, and an upper, or rocky, district; these two subdivi- 
sions of the alpine region correspond fairly well with the 
areas occupied by the two mountain butterflies, which I have 
attempted to represent upon the accompanying map by the 
two shades of brown, — the darker brown representing the 
region where (Eneis has its proper home, the lighter where 
Brenthis most abounds and breeds. Tltcre is no doubt that 
occasional individuals of (Enei% semidea will be found far 
within the limits of the lower alpine region; for the fierce 
blasts of wind which sweep around these lofty elevations must 
sometimes hurl these feeble flutterers far down toward the 
wooded valleys, as I have myself seen ; and there is no doubt 
that they can find their food plant all through the lower alpine 
region. Nevertheless, the contrast between the occasional and 
unwilling visitor and the swarms which in their season crowd 
the upper plateaus is very marked and significant. The locali- 
ties where I have found them most abundant are the succes- 
sive sedgy plateaus which flank the upper part of the carriage 
road on Mt. Washington, and especially the broad area between 
the sixth and seventh mile-posts, where the road takes a side 
turn, and which I call " Semidea Plateau." So, too, one may 
find an aspiring Brenthis above the limits of the lower alpine 
region; but it is very rarely seen there, and the violets on 
which the caterpillar probably feeds ^ will scarcely ever be 
found in any abundance within the upper alpine area. It 
seems fairly deducible from these facts that even the limited 
area of the barren heights above the White Mountain forests 
is divisible into two districts, each of which claims a butterfly 
as its own ; so that in ascending Mt. Washington, we pass, as 
it were, from New Hampshire to northern Labrador ; for on 
leaving the New Hampshire forests and forest fauna behind 
us, we come first upon insects (there are others besides B. 
montinuB) recalling those of the northern shores of the Gulf 

^ From observations this summer I think it not improbable that it will be 
found to feed on Gtunu 


of St. Lawrence and the coast of Labrador opposite Newfound- 
land; and when we have attained the summit a butterfly 
greets us which represents the fauna of Atlantic Labrador 
and Greenland. 

Interesting as this is, how very meagre such a showing 
appears by the side of our knowledge of the butterfly-faunas 
of the Swiss and Coloradan alps, where the mountains rise to 
so much greater heights, and the mountainous area is so vastly 
more extended ! In the Swiss Alps^ where the alpine area is 
limited above as well as below, and the melting of the eternal 
snows keeps the whole region above the trees one of the choi-' 
cest pasturages for cattle that tlie earth affords, the whole as- 
pect of the butterfly world is different. A host of species in 
infinite numbers crowd about the blossoms, the springs, the 
very edges of the glaeiers. Forms wholly unknown in the 
valleys below, or allied to but easily distinguished from them, 
meet one at every step. A species of (Eneis, very many of 
JErebia^ several Brenthis, a number of Melitceidij a host of 
Cupididij with species of Eurymus^ Pamassius, and several 
SesperidcBy show how varied and striking the fauna is. Be- 
sides these, a great many of the valley forms often accompany 
them, among which will be found our old friends antiopa^ car- 
duty and atalanta, so rarely seen with us above the forest.^ In 
the Cordilleras of Colorado, where the snow-fields are far less 
important, and glaciers are practically unknown, we have a 
condition of things between the mountains of Switzerland and 
New Hampshire. The number of distinct forms is consider- 
able, but by no means so large as in Switzerland. A couple of 
species of (Eneis are found here with several ErehiaSj and a 
Brenthia or two ; some Melitceidi also occur, most of which 
are also found some distance below the timber line, which is 
here vastly higher than at the White Mountains, being at 
about 10,000 feet. The Cupididi are abundant, and one finds 
a characteristic Eurymusy Pamasaius (also found at lower 

1 Those wishing details concerning the vertical distribution of Swiss butter- 
flies should consult Speyer*s *' Geograpliische Verbreitung der Schmetterlioge 
Dentsclilands und der Schweiz" (1868); or Meyer-Diir's " Verzeichniss der 
Schmetterlinge der Schweiz" (1862). Some brief notes of my own on Alpine 
butterflies wiU also be found in the " Geology of New Hampshire/' vol. i. p. 343. 


levels), and one or two ffesperidce of the same group as oc- 
curs on the Swiss Alps. Indeed, the agreement of the typical 
alpine forms of Colorado and Switzerland is striking, and in 
strange contrast to the poverty of New Hampshire ; the more 
so, as a large number of the additional generic types are not 
those characteristic of high latitudes. What the higher levels 
of the White Mountains would be as a home for butterflies, if 
a thousand or two more feet were added to their elevation and 
snow crowned the higher summits, it might be hard to say, 
but it would certainly be still very different from the fauna of 
the Swiss or the Coloradan alps. Many of the generic forms 
which are common to them scarcely occur in eastern Amer- 
ica ; so that the difference between the three alpine faunas we 
have mentioned accentuates the distinction which exists be- 
tween eastern America and Europe, and the agreement found 
between western America and Europe. 

The map which accompanies this paper is based upon that 
prepared and published by Mr. W. H. Pickering in his little 
" Walking Guide to the Mt. Washington Range." His lines 
have been followed for the contours, streams, paths, and forest 
limits. Some slight additions have been made, and by the use 
of colors the extent of the forest region and the division of the 
alpine region into two districts have been clearly shown. The 
difference in the height of the forest line in different parts of 
the range, as modified by the exposure or the proximity of 
deep ravines (first made apparent by the measurements of the 
late Professor Guyot), are here well brought out, but probably 
require some modification. 


A June Migration. 

By T. W. HiGGiNSON. 

Now that our life in America is becoming more and more 
systematically divided between summer and winter, it is grow- 
ing to be a serious question at what date the transition should 
be made. I can remember when the academic year at Har- 
vard College, for instance, was prolonged until the end of July, 
and when there were but six weeks' vacation ere work began 
once more. Now the term ends in June, and fourteen weeks 
follow, during which Cambridge is half deserted. For those 
not bound by a college calendar, or by that of the public and 
private schools, it is a harder thing to fix upon a suitable day 
of migration. Granting that every discreet person wishes to 
be out of town — whatever and wherever "town" is — before 
the Fourth of July, the question still recurs. How much before ? 
Everything advances with such a rush and hurry in our head- 
over-heels spring blossoming, that the variation of a day or 
two may lose for us whole sheaves of flowers either in the 
garden or the woods, as the case may be. Which loss can be 
the more easily borne ? 

It is very common to draw the line of migration at the fall 
of the rose-petals. No matter how affluent the wealth in your 
garden, no matter how serious a labor it may have been to 
keep up with harvest by picking daily bushel-baskets-full im- 
mediately after breakfast, there comes a morning when the 
drooping pallor on every bush and the melancholy carpeting 
of fallen petals beneath it give warning that the roses of an- 
other year are passed by. On that morning it is easy to pack 
your trunk for mountain or sea-shore, even if you have to 
bequeath your unblown white lilies to the Flower Mission. 
Then you go into the country to find that while securing your 
roses, you have lost the mountain laurel ; while watching your 
budding lilies, you have let the pink lady's-slippers fade un- 
seen. Really the sacrifice is too great, you say ; why did we 
not migrate a little earlier ? 

24 A JUNE migration: 

Speaking for one honsehold, I can say that this year we re- 
solved to let the sacrifice be the other way ; and after linger- 
ing long enough to gather what may be called the preliminary 
roses, — namely, the white and yellow Scotch, the delicate 
white Madame Plantier and even the earliest of the Jacque- 
minots, — we deliberately left fifty bushes of blush-roses and 
cabbage-roses laden solidly with buds, and said to that garden 
realm, " Good-by, proud world, I 'm going home." The mo- 
mentary regret was considerable ; for as it chanced, the season 
was a late one, and it had not been planned to make quite so 
complete a sacrifice. But it is a sufficient proof of the superi- 
ority, after all, of the wild to the tame, that the first sensation 
of actual arrival out-of-doors, so to speak, at an earlier date 
than the accustomed, sweeps all regrets away as with a flood. 
Really, the difference between migrating into the country on 
the 20th of June and on the 30th is a variation so great that 
no price seems too high to pay for it. In the one case you 
are, in a measure, the companion of the spring ; in the other 
case you are hopelessly and irrevocably the guest of summer 

Two wild-flowers alone are sufficient to determine this dif- 
ference, as regards the floral year. In June the momitain 
laurel grasps our woods everywhere with a giant's strength, — 
a phrase none too vivid for the solidity of its roots or the robust 
tangled fibre of its boughs ; yet all this vigor is hidden be- 
neath the luxuriant mass of flowers and the freshness which 
it gives to whole hillsides and forests. It heaps itself like 
snow-wreaths ; it spreads itself like moonlight throughout all 
hollows and dells. While it lasts, there is an evanescent 
splendor about everything; the feast of roses in the Vale of 
Cashmere can hardly be more luxuriant or more magical. 
But wait a week later, and then the convoluted blossoms 
will have disappeared, one by one ; so that there will remain 
only a spark here and there of what was once a complete 

While this change goes on by every rural woodland, the 
depths of the pine woods also feel it in the coming and going 
of the pink lady's-slipper (^Cypripedium acaule). No legend 
of fairies can represent anything more gay and fleeting than 


the pageant of the deeper woods during the few days' prime of 
this lovely flower. It is so light and delicate in its poise, so 
wayward and graceful in its grasping, that it is as if some 
picnic party of blithe girls had taken possession of the sombre 
forest, and had distributed themselves in little parties beneath 
the trees. Each dark bole seems like a refuge and almost a 
chaperon ; and sometimes two or three will take refuge within 
the same matronly protection, a blushing family. Others ven- 
ture boldly forth in little groups ; so that, after searching whole 
regions of the wood in vain, you will sometimes iind a dozen 
flowers within the circuit of one cluster of. trees. You can 
easily fancy them nodding and chatting to one another in your 
absence ; or you might take them for lustrous moths or butter- 
flies, just clinging to their green perch by day and ready to 
undergo some further change by night. But they do not flit, — 
they only pine and fade away in a few days, if left unplucked ; 
and next year their children will light up the pine woods as 
gayly as they. 

But it is not the difference in flowers only that tells you 
whether you have made your exodus from the city ten days 
earlier or later. The welcome of the birds is as marked. So 
keenly do they feel the advancing season that birds which 
fill the woods with their note on the 20tli of June will be 
almost silenced by tlie 30th. In this region the rich note of 
the brown thrasher diminishes day by day within that time ; 
80 does that of his humble kinsman, the catbird ; so with the 
" shy chewink," as Lowell calls him ; while the bobolink, the 
song-sparrow, and the field-sparrow grow almost silent. If 
one went to sleep in the woods in early spring and lay en- 
thralled for weeks, he could almost tell the precise stage of 
the season on awaking, by the altered notes of the birds. 
By the end of July two minstrels have the pine-woods almost 
wholly to themselves, — the wood-thrush by day and the whip- 
poorwill by night. It is true that the ear limited to these is 
like the eye that is limited to Shakspeare; the rest can be 

26 KTAADK BAsnr. 

Ktaadn Basin. 

Bt Rosewell B. Lawrknck. 


In 1886 five Appalachians made the trip to Mount Etaadn, 
situated in the northern part of Maine. One of the party, 
Miss Rose Hollingsworth, took fifty photographs, nearly all 
of which proved successful. Perhaps the most interesting of 
the collection is the one which represents Ktaadn Basin.^ 

The camera was placed in front of our camp, so that the 
picture shows the beautiful view which we enjoyed. Sitting 
under the trees before our tents, we looked across the pond 
to the little sandy beach, the fringe of evergreen forest, the 
masses of broken granite, the slides with their bowlders and 
gravel, the dizzy precipices, and the serrated ridge with its 
craggy peaks 2,300 feet above us. Imagine also the sand, 
trees, cliffs, peaks, blue sky, and clouds mirrored in the quiet 
lake, and you will not ask a grander scene, a more enchanting 

The Basin Pond lies 2,900 feet above sea-level, and the 
two peaks, East and West, rise above the pond about 2,300 
feet. In the picture clouds obscure the East and West Peaks, 
Neither do we see the Chimney and Pamola, the peaks at the 
end of the left horn of the crescent which forms the Basin. 
We see a portion of the ridge which connects Pamola with 
the East Peak ; and the lowest point in this rim of the Basin 
is about 1,900 feet above the lake. In several places the bare 
granite cliffs are visible, and on the left the huge blocks which 
have fallen from the ledges above. In the centre is the Basin 
Slide, so well described by Professor Hamlin. He says that 
it started high up in the crevice between Pamola and the 
Chimney. It tore an awful ravine in the mountain side, de- 
posited an immense mass of bowlders and gravel at the base 
of the cliffs, and carried sand even to the pond, making the 
pretty beach which adds so much to the beauty of the picture. 

1 Plate V. 




The peak which tenninates the eastern spur has been appro- 
priately called Pamela, for Big Devil, the Indian evil spirit, 
whose head and face are like a man's, whose body and feet 
are like an eagle's, and who is so great and strong that he 
can take up a moose with one of his claws. His residence is 
below his peak in the Great Basin of Ktaadn, which has been 
called "a volcanic caldron," "a meteorological whirlpool," 
and " the birthplace of storms." Hither, they say, his majesty 
has carried a lovely squaw ; and when his pursuers draw near, 
he protects himself and the captive maiden by hurling thun- 
derbolts.^ When the lightnings flash, the thunders roll, the 
winds sweep down from the cliffs upon the forests below, and 
tlie rain descends in torrents, then the Indian camping in the 
Basin thinks that Pamela is angry because his sanctuary has 
been invaded. Neither lightning nor thunder disturbed us, but 
Pamela maintained his reputation by the terrific winds which 
he sent down from above. 

Though Ktaadn's visitors have been comparatively few, yet 
its praises have been sounded by men eminent in science and 
literature. A valuable record has been preserved of the first 
known ascent, in 1804. Then follow the accounts by the 
botanist Professor J. W. Bailey in 1836, and the geologist Pro- 
fessor Charles T. Jackson in 1837. Thoreau has given us the 
story of his trip in 1846, filled with interesting details of his life 
in the woods and his ascent into the clouds. Winthrop, also, 
has given us a spirited narrative. To the credit of our Club 
membership we have the entertaining descriptions by Rev. 
E. E. Hale and Colonel T. W. Higginson, and the valuable 
reports by Professor C. H. Hitchcock. 

It remained, however, for another, an ardent Appalachian, 
actually to accomplish the work suggested by the attempts of 
his predecessors. He had the genuine enthusiasm of an ex- 
plorer, a deep love for the grand and beautiful in Nature, the 
scientific training and literary ability to place before the public 
valuable results of his work. He explored Ktaadn thoroughly, 
— its immense slides and great gulf; he noted each tree and 
flower ; he studied the bare ledges, the broken granite, and 

1 J. S. Springer'B Forest Life and Forest Trees. 


the piles of debris from the cliffs and primeval glaciers. 
Besides collecting a mass of valuable information, he also 
made a relief map which is a treasure in itself. To his articles 
upon Ktaadn the reader is referred for special information.^ 

Walking-Dress for Ladies. 

Bt Mrs. L. D. Pychowska. 

Having read with interest the remarks in Appalachu No. 
8, on the subject of a walking-costume for ladies, I have thought 
tliat it would not perhaps be amiss to add to them the results 
of an experience of thirty-five years of mountain-climbing in 
Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, and New England. 

A few common-sense precautions with regard to avoiding 
over-fatigue and taking cold are all that is needed. to render 
mountain walking the most healthful of amusements for all 
women endowed with an average degree of health and strength. 
The test of a half-century in my own case, and the result of 
the experiences of my youthful relatives, are the bases of this 
opinion. Of course, recklessness, and the vanity of attempt- 
ing to outdo their male companions, must be productive of 
evil consequences. 

For tlic feet, we have found most comfortable boots broad 
and moderately thick-soled (so that the foot can bend), from 
a half-inch to an inch longer than the person's ordinai-y shoe, 
low-heeled, and with the upper parts of soft, pliable leather. 

For those who can wear them, woollen stockings are desira- 
ble, as more elastic than cotton, and as affording a greater 
security against cold in case of wet feet. 

In fact, so far as possible, the entire clothing should be 
made of woollen material. This precaution diminishes greatly 

* Professor Charles E. Haroiin : " Routes to Ktaadn/' with map, in Appala- 
chian vol. ii. p. 806; "Observations on the Physical Geography and Geology 
of Ktaadn/' in the Bulletin of the Museum of Comparative Zoology, Cambridge, 
No. v., Whole Series, vol. vii., Geol. Series, vol. i. 


the danger from cooling after over-heating, when there is no 
opportunity to change the garments. 

Gray flannel trousers, secured just below the knee with a 
loose elastic run through the hem, are indispensable. If they 
reach to the ankle, they catch on briers and undergrowth, and 
are very ungraceful. 

Most ladies will find two skirts more agreeable than one. 
The under one may be made of gray flannel, finished with a 
hem, and reaching just below the knee. The outer skirt 
should be of winsey (a material just now not obtainable in the 
city of New York) or of Kentucky jean. Flannel tears too 
readily to be reliable as an outer skirt. Winsey is as strong 
as Kentucky jean, and not so heavy, and if it could be ob- 
tained, would be useful both as under and outer skirt. If the 
outer skirt reach down to the top of an ordinary walking-boot, 
the effect of it is neither ungraceful nor conspicuous, and the 
skirt will rarely be found in the way. In case of a climb of 
unusual steepness, or of a rapid transit through liobble bush, 
where a temporary shortening of the dress may be required, a 
strong clasp pin, easily carried, will in a moment fasten up 
the outer skirt, washwoman fashion ; and when the difficulty is 
surmounted, the pin may be loosened and afifairs restored to 
their ordinary condition. 

As for a trimming on the outer skirt (if desired), rows of 
braid sewed on must be avoided, as liable to rip. A strong, 
bright^olored outside facing, or flat band, if corded on se- 
curely by hand, has been*found pretty and serviceable. I ad- 
visedly say " pretty," for why should the female figures in the 
landscape spoil it by ugliness in color or repulsivcness in form ? 
It is indeed a mistake to imagine that, to walk rapidly and 
safely through steep and pathless wilds, a woman must don 
a garb suggestive only of a 5th of November procession. 

As the skirts are cut somewhat scant, this outside facing or 
band makes the rim hang down securely ; and this rim can be 
finished with a stout braid, strongly stitched on by hand on 
the right side, and then rolled over and liemmed up on the 
wrong side. Such an arrangement is neat, and lasts well. 
The braid may wear off, but the sewing remains, and the edge 
of the garment is not so readily frayed. 


As to tlie upper portion of the garb, the wearer's own habits 
of costume will best decide upon its fashion. The writer has 
found most agreeable to herself, a loosely fitting, so-called 
French, or tucked waist, gathered or plaited into a belt, to 
which the outside skirt is also sewed, thus disposing of its 
weight evenly, and leaving no chance for hiatuses. The pres- 
ent " Princess," or outside " basquine " modes would answer 
as well. 

Such a garb as described has ascended Mts. .Tahawus, 
Whiteface, Hopkins, Hurricane, and other peaks of the Adi- 
rondacks, gone through the Indian Pass, travelled in twelve 
hours over the peaks of the White Mountains from Washing- 
ton, over Clay, Jefferson, Adams, and Madison, and through 
the thickets on Madison down to the Glen road ; it has been 
carried up and down Chocorua and Sandwich-Whiteface, and 
over the pathless ways of Shelburne-Moriah, Baldcap, Ingalls, 
Caribou, etc.; it last summer came down through Tucker- 
man's Ravine when the streams were at their fullest ; and yet 
it has appeared at the end of these walks sufficiently presenta- 
ble to enter a hotel or a railroad car without attracting un- 
comfortable attention. 

An Exploration of the Pilot Range. 

By W. H. Peek. 

Second Paper. 

Various circumstances delayed the second trip to the Pilots 
till the shortness of the days had perhaps an untoward effect 
on the expedition. It was late in tlie season before we were 
all ready, and then the weather gave us little prospect of the 
series of fair days which we regarded as indispensable. But 
on September 15, or about six weeks later than in the previous 
season, we started. After an early breakfast at the Ravine 
House and a drive over Jefferson Hill, we reached Lancaster 
Gore at about half-past eleven o'clock. The particular spot 
was that of our exit from the wilderness in August of last 
year, the clearing now owned and occupied by Mr. Sidney 


Brown. We found that the many-bridged stream down which 
we had hurried on that occasion was the northern branch of 
the ^' Great Brook/' the southern branch of which drains the 
Willard Basin proper, and is the stream down which Mr. 
Sargent passed on his trip from Bound Mountain, September, 
1885. The two branches unite about a mile below the clear- 
ings, and the united stream passes by Garland's Mill and 
thence to Israel's River near Jefferson Mills. 

Being thus once more on well-known ground, before plung- 
ing into the bush, it may be best to speak of the changes 
in the personnel of the expedition, and of its division into two 
parts. The ex-Councillor, Mr. Cook, and the writer, with 
the well-known Randolph guides, Charles E. Lowe and Hub- 
bard H. Hunt, formed the larger party, who went to Lancaster 
Gore, as stated above. Mr. George A. Sargent, of Boston, 
instead of accompanying us as he did last year, started alone 
from Randolph through the woods by way of the Pond of 
Safety to Round Mountain, and thence across Willard's Notch 
to Terrace Mountain, on whose steep, yes, wall-sided heights 
we will leave him for the present, — merely premising that it 
was hoped that we should all meet at the head of the ^^ Sheep- 
fold " on Mons Ovium at about 4.30 P. m. in time to select a 
camping-place on the northeastern slope of Ovium, so as to be 
as far as we could be on our way to South Peak. 

To return to Lancaster Gore and the larger party, we will 
say that about noon the ascent of the multi-pontine stream 
commenced. Several of the bridges had been destroyed by 
the floods ; but the others were duly counted up to number 
twenty-nine, when the thing became monotonous; so leaving 
our mark on a tree at our dining-place, we kept on over unnum- 
bered bridges till we reached an old logging-camp, whence cut- 
tings ramified in various directions. After some search for the 
best way, it was determined to leave the brook well on our 
right, and ascend the heights of Mons Ovium by the bank of a 
smaller stream, which we rightly conjectured to take its rise 
in the dip or col connecting the greater height of Sebastian 
Cabot with Mons Ovium. The way became increasingly steep, 
but, though fatiguing, presented no special difficulties. The 
rocks were mostly moss-covered ; and the thick, low growth 


of spruces, though of considerable extent, could be avoided in 
a great degree. So about four o'clock, when we thought we 
must be nearing the top of Ovium, the ex-Councillor started in 
advance. He intended to turn to the southeast from the top 
of Ovium to the " Sheep-fold," and there he hoped to see or 
hear from our friend Mr. Sargent, whose self-imposed and 
arduous task was by this time, perhaps, nearly completed. 
Before long we slower travellers thought we heard the report 
of fire-arms in the solitudes on our right, and soon afterward 
we distinguished voices calling. Pressing onward to the height 
of Ovium, and stopping only to observe the barometer at two 
stations, we turned southcastwardly, and hurried down the 
gentle descent to the " Sheep-fold," which we struck in the 
middle of its upper boundary. Here we again halted, to ob- 
serve, and particularly to listen. We had a most charming 
view of the upper part of the valley of tlie Upper Ammonoo- 
suc, as well as of Terrace Mountain, Round Mountain, a part 
of the Pliny Range, and also the distant ranges south and east 
of us, through an atmosphere of exceeding clearness. The 
distant sun, bathed though it was, had a tone of delightful 
silvery gray. The rough-cut " Howks " of Mt. Madison, and 
the massive crags of Durand Ridge at that distance and in 
that light, were like the richest chasings of the silversmith. 
The many smaller ravines, deep, narrow, and dark, were like 
fine niello-work. 

While enjoying the exquisite beauty of the landscape, we 
were not without anxiety. Mr. Sargent's call, which we oc- 
casionally heard, appeared to be growing fainter and fainter 
instead of coming nearer, and we noticed that the descending 
sun had changed the silver of the distant hills to gold. Not 
daring to wait till the gold had turned to crimson, it seemed 
best for us to descend the slide, which for some twelve years 
has had its name from the resemblance, at a distance, of its 
loose fragments or bowlders to a flock of sheep in an enclos- 
ure. We found that the resemblance was most striking in 
another respect, — their habit of closely following one after 
another down-hill. There was less of stable equilibrium and 
greater 'sharpness of outline than any one would wish to 
encounter. On reaching the bottom, closely attended by the 


counterfeit " Muttons," and guided by the sound of Mr. Cook's 
voice, we found that Mr. Sargent was laboriously ascending 
the steep mountain-side. When we first heard him, he was 
high on the slopes of Terrace Mountain, from which he had 
to descend into Bunnell Notch ; and that accounted for the 
sound being gradually smothered. The north slope of Bunnell 
Notch is very steep, and it was not desirable that Mr. Sargent 
should climb unnecessarily, — the lateness of the hour having 
obliged us to abandon our first plan of camping on the east 
slope between Ovium and Sebastian Cabot. So we hurried 
down to a brook, and there in the depths of the steep Bunnell 
Notch a camping-place was selected, with an outlook toward 
Crescent Mountain, near good water, near a good fireplace, 
and on sloping ground ; the descent somewhat toward the fire- 
place, but more — oh, too much more! — to the east side. 
The tent was pitched, the fire kindled, the supper greatly en- 
joyed The moon, rising over the distant Crescent Range, 
showed herself through the trees; and in proper season we 
sought repose on our bough-strewn floor. The writer stoutly 
denied having slept a wink all night. His neighbors as 
strongly asserted that they were sure he had slumbered. 
This much he may acknowledge; that he had visions, — 
visions of Tartarus, of personating Sisyphus, of exerting his 
whole strength in rolling an immense rock up-hill ; sometimes 
the bowlder became a Harvard Esculapius, and again Escu- 
lapius was a flinty rock. Long before morning, gravity 
operated on the Harvard bowlder, then on the scribe, and 
then on the heavy-weight guide, in such a manner that the 
inertia of the conservative ex-Councillor was completely over- 
come, and he was extruded from the tent. 

With excellent temper he arose silently, though not unob- 
served, and sat by the fire. No stars were now to be seen; nor 
ruddy light of dawn below, where the moon had shone the 
evening before. Gray clouds spread over all, and rain began 
to fall ; so our high hopes of fine prospects and sketches and 
compass bearings were dissipated, although Mr. Cook and Mr. 
Lowe reascended the mountain after breakfast by way of the 
"Sheep-fold," and made barometrical observations on Mt. 
Sebastian Cabot, returning about noon. Mr. Sargent, who 



had well earned the right to remain at rest, stayed at camp 
with the writer and Hubbard Hunt. The day was a wet one, 
and at its end we sought our inclined plane at an early hour. 

Next morning after breakfast a council was held, at which 
it was arranged that Mr. Lowe with much of our heavy bag- 
gage should return to Sidney Brown's by way of Bunnell 
Notch, following the water-courses ; Mr. Sargent and Mr. Cook 
were to ascend Mons Ovium and Sebastian Cabot, and having 
obtained bearings there, were to traverse the ridges and visit 
the Bulge and its connection with the South Peak, at the lat- 
ter place meeting Mr. Hunt and the writer. These two under- 
took to reach the South Peak as directly as possible by skirting 
the east side of Mons Ovium on a course north by compass 
till the South Peak came in sight, and then going as straight 
as obstacles would permit. This course led tliem up Mons 
Ovium several lumdred feet before sighting South Peak, and 
they then made their way true north down a handsome slope 
to a valley through which passed to their right a fine brook, 
steep and yet rapid. This brook must rise on the flattened 
connecting ridge between the Bulge and Sebastian Cabot. It 
is probably the source of the northwest branch of the Upper 
Ammonoosuc. They tarried awhile at this interesting cross- 
ing of the brook, Mr. Hunt leaving his mark as evidence of 
their visit. On the south side of the brook the ascent was 
resumed. On the left extended the long ridge of the Turtle 
Back, or the Bulge ; and due south was a gentle ascent through 
a fine forest of birch and spruce, till the foot of the South 
Peak itself was reached. At this time were heard the voices 
of the other party, sounding from the mountain behind, and 
at a great distance. Mountain calls were exchanged to mutual 
satisfaction, and the attack of the steep cone commenced. It 
grew steeper, with high rocks of the kind usually described in 
the guide-books as inaccessible cliffs. Hubbard Hunt exhausted 
his vocabulary when he declared it " full as bad as Mount Ter- 
race." The sharp small summit was reached about 11.20 a. m. 
Mr. Hunt cut away a few small trees, and lopped some boughs 
which had obstructed the view ; and a few hasty sketches were 
made, as now in one quarter and then in another the rising 
of the clouds revealed points of interest. A few rapid glances 


around showed not an entire panorama (because a few trees, 
which we had no time to fell, cut off the view to the east), 
but lovely views extending from Long Mountain and Odell to 
a great distance toward the left. North of us and far below 
we saw the Devil's Slide, with Stark Village nestling at its 
foot ; and beyond and to the left were the Percy Peaks, beau- 
tiful of course. The Stratford Mountains filled the farther 
distance till, still farther to the left, the ridges of the true 
Pilot Mountain intruded on the middle distance. The Pilot 
summit showed clearly the well-marked depressions down 
which we slid so rapidly last year. The several heights of 
the Pilot range led the eye across a considerable depression 
to the " Grand Pilot," — Sebastian Cabot itself, which, tower- 
ing above all others, sends vast spurs in various directions. 
One of these running northeastwardly three fourths of a mile 
or more falls several hundred feet, when it rises and forms 
the Bulge ; then turning still more to the north it again de- 
scends, still keeping a well-marked ridge-like form till it 
expands and rises as the very sharp conical height so con- 
spicuous and so well deserving the name of the South Peak, — 
the spot on which we are now supposed to stand. Another 
spur descends to the southeast and forms Mons Ovium, as has 
been described. A third forms the long and massive ridge 
which extending westward to the plains of Lancaster divides 
Willard Basin and the " Gore " from Lost Nation. The fourth 
and last great spur runs to the west of north, and forms the 
connection with the main range of the Pilots, and is indeed 
the western wall of the well-marked upper valley of Mill 
Brook, as seen from Mill Mountain in Stark. To return to 
our view-point on South Peak, — a rock as large as a goodly, 
hospitable dining-table, — still farther to the left or south we 
see Terrace Mountain spreading its ample breadth over the 
space between Bunnell Notch and Round Mountain. The 
latter hides a part of the Presidential Range, but to the left 
of it the shifting clouds gave us views of Madison and Adams 
and a fine sight of the entire Carter Range. Terrace Moun- 
tain should perhaps be accounted a part of the northern clus- 
ter, as Bunnell Notch, though deep, is not cut so low as the 
notch at the head of Willard Basin. 


While all this was being " taken in " by the advance party, 
the other detachment was drawing near. Our friends had 
been detained on the chief sammit for an hour and three quar- 
ters, waiting for a chance to take observations ; but the clouds 
were obdurate, and the highly desired figures were not to be 
obtained. At about noon four of us were on the little summit, 
using our opportunities as rapidly as we might, in obtaining 
elevations and bearings; but the weather thickened, squalls 
blew over us, masses of " scud " swept our faces, and at 1 P. m. 
it was really necessary that we should leave, as the way was 
long and the mountains high. We were soon on the col be- 
tween the South Peak and the Bulge. The latter height was 
skirted on its southern side, and we found ourselves at 2 p. m. 
on a broad even ridge, on which was a bog containing the first 
water we had seen for a long time. This bog probably feeds 
the stream passed in the deep dell to the south, as well as the 
head-waters of Mill Brook, which joins the Upper Ammonoosuc 
at Stark Village. At the bog we halted for dinner, to some 
of us a very slight collation ; and while moistening some hard 
crusts in bog-water, some sharp detonations were heard, a 
salvo of Heaven's artillery. So we earnestly, if not very hur- 
riedly, made our way up the long and noble ascent to the 
chief summit; and the writer had just stationed himself 
under the tree whose markings attest our visit, and was ob- 
serving the barometer, when the storm burst. In whole 
sheets came down the rain, so warm and pleasant that we 
could find no fault, except with its excessive quantity. Fare- 
well to our much-desired observations! There was nothing 
else to do but to find our way through the clouds back to 

Mr. Cook led the way down through the scrub and bushes ; 
but before we came to the many-bridged stream he left us in 
order to convey early intelligence of our coming to the party 
waiting at Lancaster Gore. The rest of us followed more 
leisurely ; and oh, how wet we were ! The rain ceased be- 
fore we were quite out of the woods, but there were showers 
enough from trees and bushes to prevent any approach to 
desiccation. We reached the wagon sent from the Ravine 
House to meet us, and found with great satisfaction that our 


considerate host had sent thick and warm blankets, in which 
were wrapped our well-wetted persons. 

The time from South Peak to Lancaster Gore was quite 
satisfactory, — namely, leaving the first place at 1 p. M., stop- 
ping twenty-five minutes to dine at the bog, and reaching 
Brown's at 5.50 p. m. But the time from Sebastian Cabot to 
South Peak was moi*e like the speed of the gemsbok. Thirty 
minutes from Sebastian to the top of the Bulge, and eighteen 
more to the top of South Peak, are not likely to be diminished 
till a well-worn path is made in those solitudes. 

Just as we had arranged ourselves in the wagon, the western 
clouds revealed a fine sight of the sinking sun. The air was 
quite warm and pleasant, and it was in no melancholy mood 
that we settled ourselves for the ride of some four hours to the 
Ravine House. At nine and a half o'clock we were received by 
an enthusiastic group of friends with all the honors and in a 
blaze of crimson glory, — no, it was not red paint, but strontium 

A few words regarding the general aspects of the Pilot 
Range perhaps may not be out of place. The general classi- 
fication of these mountains, made nearly a hundred years ago 
by Dr. Timothy D wight, is at least as good as anything at- 
tempted since ; and if the general appellation had been more 
felicitous, it would probably be preferred, even now, to any 
name since applied to them. He included under one head 
(1) all the Pliny Range, of course including Starr King ; (2) 
Round Mountain or Mt. Willard; (3) the Crescent Range; 
and (4) the Pilot Range, from Cape Horn to Green's Ledge 
on the east. But the name he gave to the mass was ^' The 
Little Moose Hillock;" and that was evidently brought by 
parties familiar with the lower part of the Connecticut River, 
and evinces a power of generalization of mountain forms con- 
trasting strongly with poverty of imagination as to mountain 
names. Does not this great mass still await a fitting name, — 
one large enough to include the whole, and which would not 
interfere nor be confused with its individual parts ? The view 
to the east and north from Starr King Mountain, a charming 
one in itself, unfolds some of the intricacies of the group or 
system. Beginning at north-northwest, we there see the true 


Pilot Mountain, and beyond it Percy Peaks. More to the 
right Sebastian Cabot rises, with Ovium reposing on its right. 
Terrace Mountain rises in front of the latter, and excludes 
the view of the deep cut of Bunnell Notch, which lies between 
them. To the right of Terrace, Round Mountain shows nobly, 
and is the first of the group which, swinging round to the 
south and west, connects with the eminence on which the 
spectator stands. 

Heights ^ of Points visited on trip to Pilot Range, September, 1886. 


Mt Sebastian Cabot 4,220 

Mons Ovium, highest 4,039 

Top of Sheep-fold 8,873 

Bottom of Sheep-fold 3,800 

Camp in fiuunell Notch 2,750 

Our passage of ridge of Ovium 3,560 

Crossing of Ammonoosuc Brook 2,751 

South Peak 3,917 

Ridge connecting with Bulge 3,696 

Bulge 3,950 

Bog on which we dined 3,750 

Sidney Brown's clearing 1,630 

Erratum. — On the profile accompanying the previous paper (vol. 
It. pi. VI.) the horizontal scale should he stated as four miles to the 

Ascents of the Breithorn and Mont Blano. 

By F. H. Chapin. 

Boad Mar. 0, 1887. 

In the summer of 1877 there were four of us from New 
England together in Switzerland, and we managed to walk over 
a good part of it, and find our way to the top of some of its 
highest mountains, although our only immediate preparatory 
training was getting into the ball of St. Paul's in London and 

^ Owing to the stormy weather, I regard all these figures as merely approxi- 
mations, though they have been compared with nearly synchronous obseryations 
at the Ravine House. 


climbing Strasburg spire. We first crossed the Spliigen Pass 
from Lake Zurich to Lake Como, and then crossed the Alps 
again, going from Lake Maggiore to Lake Lucerne by way of 
the St. Gotthard. After ascending the Rigi, we spent a few 
days in the Bernese Oberland and on Lake Thun, and then, 
from the summit of the Gemmi Pass, we had our first view of 
the grandest region in this mountainous country, — that is, 
the Monte Rosa chain and its neighboring peaks. Down the 
winding stairway-like road of the Gemmi, we ran a neck-and- , 
neck race for the baths of Leuk, and thence to Visp. 

The next morning we were ofif early for our walk up through 
the valley of the Visp to Zermatt, the only road, as far as St. 
Niklaus, being a narrow bridle-path, although for the rest of 
the way we had an apology for a wagon-road. It is a walk 
of eight hours from Visp to Zermatt, with an ascent of 3,160 
feet. The valley, after passing St. Niklaus, is only about two 
miles wide, and runs between the Mischabelhorner on the one 
side, and the pyramid of the Weisshorn on the other, whose 
glacier, the Bies, perched away up on its rocks, seems as if it 
could not retain its hold, so steep is the declivity of its eastern 
slope. In fact, in 1636, most of the glacier is said to have 
fallen into the valley at Randa, carrying havoc and devasta- 
tion with it. Again, in 1819, masses of it fell, and although 
not quite hitting the village, raised such commotion in the air 
as to destroy most of the houses. 

Here, at Randa, the traveller at length comes in sight of 
the Matterhorn ; and no matter how much he may have read 
of it, or how high his expectations may be raised, he will be 
awestruck when he sees its mighty form towering up at the 
end of the valley, a seeming barrier to all progress in that 
direction. The mountain looks as if it could surely defy storm 
and wind, yet it is crumbling day by day, year by year ; hurri- 
cane and lightning, snow and frost, cold and warmth, each 
exercises its forces upon it, and as a result there is a con- 
tinual shower of rocks falling upon the glaciers beneath. The 
Z'mutt glacier is covered many feet in depth with debris from 
the slopes of the Matterliorn and the Dent d'H^rens. One of 
our party, who afterward ascended this difficult peak, said 
that he thought that one of the greatest dangers arises from 


falling stones, a continual thundering of which was kept up 
during the night that he was in the hut.^ 

The Matterhom will probably last as long as it concerns 
the human race to inquire, yet how differently two writers 
have regarded it. Tyndall says : — 

'^ Hacked and hurt by time, the aspect of the mountain sad- 
dened me ; hitherto the impression it made was that of savage 
strength ; here we had inexorable decay." ^ 

And Ruskin : — 

'^ For unlike the Chamounix aiguilles, there is no aspect of de- 
stniction about the Matterhorn cliffs. They are not torn remnants 
of separating spires, juelding flake b^' flake and band b}' band to 
the continued process of decay. They are, on the contrary, an un- 
altered monument, seemingly sculptured long ago ; the huge walls 
'retaining yet the forms into which the}' were first engraven, and 
standing like an Egyptian temple, delicate fronted, soflly colored, 
the suns of uncounted ages rising and falling upon it continuall}^ 
but still casting the same line of shadows from east to west, still 
century after century touching the same purple stains on the lotos 
pillars ; while the desert sand ebbs and flows about their feet, as 
those autumn leaves of rock lie heaped and weak about the base of 

This is a beautiful description ; but, had Ruskin scrambled 
about on the Matterhorn, he would probably not have been so 
sure of its stability. It is Clarence King who says that " to 
follow a page of Ruskin's by one of TyndalFs is to bridge forty 
centuries." ^ 

Ball says of the traveller viewing the Matterhorn from 
Randa : — 

" However long he may remain, or however often he may return 
hither, the overpowering grandeur of this marvellous peak must 

1 C. P. Howard's ** Ascent of the Matterhorn/' in Lippincott's Magazine^ 
September, 1879. 

> Hours of Exercise in the Alps. 

• Modern Painters, pt. iv. ch. xvi. 

« Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevadas, p. 296. 


contiiiue to fascinate his eyes, and the problem of its ongin and 
history to occupy his mind, even though he be unversed in natural 
science." ^ 

On our arrival at Zermatt, we only waited long enough to 
get a cup of coffee and a roll apiece, when we started for the 
Riffel, — a two hours' walk, 3,113 feet above the village. We in- 
tended to be up early in the morning to see the sunrise from 
the Gorner Grat ; but as the morning was cloudy, we were not 
called, and enjoyed a long sleep, rather needful after our ten 
hours' walk of the day before ; but at ten we walked to this 
famous look-out and gazed at the panoramic view. On return- 
ing to the hotel, we engaged Victor Fiihrer, of Zermatt, as 
guide for the Breithorn and Theodule Pass on the following 

During the day I had an interesting conversation with an 
English climber, who gave me an account of the difficulties 
and dangers of the mountains around us. He had made the 
ascent of the Matterhorn three times, of the Weisshorn twice, 
and of the Rothhorn once ; but, strange to say, had not yet 
been able to get up Mont Blanc, having tried three times and 
having as often been driven back by wind when ascending the 
last slope. We loitered around the Rififel all the afternoon, 
spending most of our time watching a party coming down the 
Matterhorn. We had possession of the telescope, and were 
greatly interested in seeing these three descend, tied together, 
moving like snails. It was the first ascent of the year. 

Fiihrer, who had been commissioned to obtain another guide 
and a porter, awakened us at two the next morning, August 3 ; 
and after a breakfast of coffee and eggs we started — three 
of us — for the Theodule glacier, the fourth member of our 
party agreeing to meet us at the Hospice of St. Bernard in a 
few days. We walked along the grassy hill of the Riffel, then 
down a steep slope to the Gorner glacier. We picked our 
way through the bowlders of the moraine, and got over the 
glacier all right ; then up a steep ledge of rocks about five 
hundred feet, which brought us upon the Theodule. This is a 
river of ice and snow, nearly smooth, and with few visible cre- 

^ John Bail's Western Alps, p. 811. 


vasses. Unlike the Mar de Glace, it is unbroken. It winds oat 
from the base of the Breitborn like a railroad track, but broad 
enough for an army to march over. The daybreak was 
beautiful, with not a cloud in the sky ; the first intimation we 
had of sunrise was seeing the topmost crest of Monte Rosa 
tinged with gold. We scanned the sides of the mountain and 
the long range of the Gomer glacier in vain for a party who 
had started at midnight to make the ascent. 

The summit of the Theodule (or Matterjoch) Pass is 11,004 
feet above sea-level, and about 6,000 feet above Zermatt. It 
was long considered the highest in the Alps ; but the English 
Alpine Club men have discovered several others higher, if tliey 
can be called passes. Whymper, in his account of the ^' Col 
Dolent," says : — 

** Free-thinking mountaineers have been lattcrl}* in the habit of 
going up one side of an alp and coming down the other, and call- 
ing that route a pass. . . . The faithful know that passes must be 
made between mountains and not over their tops.*' ^ 

We reached a halting-place at six o'clock, and after eating 
our sandwiches, sent our porter on to the hut, and were roped 
together, about ten feet apart ; FUhrer leading, and the other 
guide bringing up the rear. We then began crossing the 
more dangerous part of the glacier, Fdhrer trying the edges of 
the crevasses before crossing. 

There were a good many of these to get over, but the edges 
were pretty firm ; tliey were open one or two feet at the sur- 
face, but lower than this were very wide and bad-looking 
places. The snow was hard and the walking easy, until we 
began the rather steep ascent of 2,500 feet. We were obliged 
to take long diagonals, and Fiihrer had to cut steps in the 
frozen snow and ice ; but on the whole the ascent was easy, 
and we accomplished our first snow mountain, 13,685 feet, 
without much fatigue, and with little thought of rarefied air. 

The wind began blowing moderately hard, and the thermom- 
eter stood 12° above zero in the sun ; but we made good use of 
that short half-hour on the summit. The air was clear except 

1 Scrambles in the Alps, p. 133. 


on the plains of Lombardy, which were covered with a billowy 
mass of clouds, tossed to and fro, some ragged and torn ap- 
pearing like rocky islands jutting out from great depths, — 
the whole a grander sight than a stormy ocean. The entire 
region, north, east, and west, — every pyramid and peak in the 
range of the horizon, — stood out distinctly. Just across the 
glacier pass rose the Matterhom, apparently within stone's- 
throw ; and immediately to the east was the snow line leading 
to the peculiar blocklike summit of the Lyskamm, where, a 
few days later, four persons lost their lives ; a cornice giving 
way, they fell 4,000 feet. Far away to the north we saw the 
Finst^raarhom, Jungfrau, Schreckhorn, and Monch. The dis- 
tant Monte Viso, in the southwest, was distinct and clear, the 
color of its rocks light brown ; and in the west we saw the 
long-looked-for Mont Blanc, its Italian side a precipice covered 
with snow and streaked with glaciers. Many thousand feet 
below us, on one side, was the Zermatt valley, with village 
and chalet here and there, and the winding Visp hurrying 
to meet the Rhone ; and on the southern side the eye followed 
the torrent of the Tournanche till all was lost in the haze 
which choked up the valley at Chfttillon. 

Our descent was rapid, and we had fun enough. Forming 
in line, and keeping the rope taut, we braced ourselves with 
our alpenstocks firmly trailed in the snow, and went off at 
great speed, regulating our gait by pressure on sticks and 
axes. We could not accomplish all of the three thousand 
feet in this way ; for in some places it was too steep to risk 
glissading, and we had to make diagonal descents to avoid one 
particular gorge between the Breithorn and the Little Matter- 
hom, out of which we could hardly hope to be fished should we 
be Qo unfortunate as to fall in. But, on the whole, the Breit- 
horn is the best of mountains for getting down quickly. The 
fun was over on reaching the glacier, where the hot Italian 
sun had melted the crust. At every step we sank down in the 
snow, and more care had to be taken in crossing the crevasses. 
We had on the usual Alpine rig, — leggings, woollen socks, and 
thick shoes, — but ten feet were sopping wet before we reached 
the hut. There we had a dinner, consisting of an omelet and 
a bottle of Aosta wine. The hut is very low, and the roof 


covered with stones to keep it from blowing off. It is the 
highest inhabited place in Europe, if that hut can be called a 
habitation. Two old Italian women keep the place open dur- 
ing the months of July and August. After our dinner Fiihrer 
saw us down the southern slope of the glacier and over the 
crevasses, and then bade us good-by.^ 

We followed our porter down the steep declivity into Italy, 
the huge Matterhorn behind us, — an entirely different-looking 
mountain from the Matterhorn as seen from Randa. It was a 
long walk to Breuil, and thence two hours to Val Tournanche, 
down a rough and stony path. We reached the village of Val 
Tournanche at four o'clock, tired enough ; for we had walked 
eleven full hours, taking in the ascent of a peak three hun- 
dred feet higher than the Jungfrau. We slept that night 
twelve hours, — a sound slumber, from which even the Italian 
flea could not awaken us. 

In the morning it took us four hours to walk to Ch&tillon, 
8,300 feet below, at the end of the valley. At Breuil we had 
changed porters, taking one of the Meynets, who was of the 
party of guides that made the first ascentof the Matterhorn 
from the Italian side. The scenery is very grand in this 
valley ; but the walking is a hard pull, for the road is only a 
bridle-path and very stony, and the continual dei^ccnt jolts 
every bono of the body. We drove through the valley of 
Aosta, the land of cretins and beggars ; at every village and 
corner these unfortunate and idiotic people met us with hat 
in hand, begging from all. We reached St. Rcmy, at the foot 
of St. Bernard, at seven in the evening, and taking a por- 
ter (engaged by the innkeeper) we started at 7.45 p. m. up 
the pass for the hospice. It was a pleasant evening; and 
although it grew dark very fast, the stars shone brightly 
and gave us some light. We were somewhat tired, and our 
porter got a long way ahead, when all of a sudden we came 

1 Victor Fiihrer lives a little way above the Zermatt village, and belongs to 
the family whose ancestors built the quaint little chapel far up on the slopes of 
the alp leading to the Hornli. I have employed him since in easy expeditions, 
and he was particularly useful to my wife and me in botanical searches in the 
Zermatt district He has also served many friends of mine very acceptably, 
and I take pleasure in recommending him to any of the Club who should ever 
chance to be in Zermatt He speaks English fairly well. 


to a fork in the road, two well-beaten paths leading off in 
opposite directions. We had not looked at our guide-books 
to pick out the way, as we depended upon our porter. We set 
up a yell such as the wilds of St. Bernard may have heard 
many a snowy and stormy night from lost travellers ; but it 
was of no use, — only an echo came back from the black rocks 
above us, for it afterward turned out that our porter was 
deaf. We had just three matches with us. Sheltering our- 
selves from the wind under a projecting rock, we lighted them 
to look at the book ; two burned faintly and died out, and we 
began to think of the fate of the youth who figures in " Excel- 
sior." I always supposed this personage to have been a peas- 
ant from the northern valleys, but he may have gone up, as 
we did, from the southern side. However, the third match did 
nobly, and knowing about where to look for the directions, 
we found the page, and read, in language familiar to tourists 
who have used Baedeker, " Avoid the path to the left." Turn- 
ing to our right we trudged on, and in half an hour came 
upon our porter, who had stopped and begun to whistle and call 
for us. We reached the hospice at ten o'clock, and were re- 
ceived cordially by one of the monks. We saw nothing more 
of our porter that evening, as a distinction in accommodations 
is made between tourists or gentlemen of the country and the 
peasants or guides. On walking into the dining-room we 
found our " number four," who had arrived before us, seated 
at the open wood-fire. We had a good supper in company 
with two of the brethren. The dining room or hall is a large, 
plainly furnished room. A few engravings hang on the wall, 
including one of Napoleon crossing the Alps. The best thing 
about the room is the comfortable open fire, which is needed 
the year round, as almost always it is rather cold on the sum- 
mit of the pass, the elevation being over 8,000 feet. We were 
much interested in the dogs of the hospice , they are noble- 
looking animals, but are said to be dying out as a race, there 
being only eight or ten of pure blood left. 

It was a beautiful Sunday morning when we left the hos- 
pice for Martigny. The sun was warm, the air delightful. 
We met many of the peasants in their Sunday best, walking 
up the mountain to the chapel at the hospice. At Bourg de 


St Pierre we took a wagon for Martigny, arriving tliere at 
three o'clock. 

In the morning, starting at fire, I walked, by waj of the 
Col de Balme, to Chamonix, in company with two English gen- 
tlemen, the rest of the party going in a carriage by way of the 
Tete Noire Pass. On the summit I had a grand view of the 
Chamonix valley and of Mont Blanc chain, and was a little 
staggered when the clouds, breaking away, showed me the 
topmost dome, for one of my companions and myself had 
made up our minds to climb it if possible. I reached Chamo- 
nix at three o*clock, after remaining an hour and a half at or 
near the Hotel Suisse on the summit of the pass, and half an 
hour at the inn on the Col de la Forclaz. My friends in the 
carriage by Tete Noire started at eight in the morning, and 
reached Chamonix at 6.30 p.m., just too late for table-cThSte. 

If an article written by a member of the English Alpine 
Club, on the ^^ Decline of Chamonix as a Mountaineering Cen- 
tre," * had been published previous to the date of the events 
which this paper chronicles, we should have been able to 
avoid lots of trouble in the selection of guides for the ascent 
of Mont Blanc. We should have taken Fiihrer and another 
Zermatt guide with us to Chamonix, and not have been sub- 
ject to the obnoxious rules of the ^^ Bureau des Guides de 
Chamonix." As it was, we spent considerable time with the 
chief guide in making arrangements and selecting leaders. 
In looking over the records of difficult ascents, I noticed that 
one of our guides, Michel Ducroz, was somewhat famous in 
his native valley, from having made one of the first ascents of 
the Aiguille Verte, in company with Michel Croz. 

An American gentleman, then in Chamonix, wished to join 
forces with us. We acceded to his proposals, and left the vil- 
lage on the morning of August 8, with four guides, two por- 
ters, and one mule. Why we took the mule I do not remem- 
ber, but it was probably for the benefit of the guides. In three 
hours we were at the inn at the Pierre Pointue, where we left 
the mule and were soon upon the Glacier des Bossons. Our 
party was too large for one rope ; so we formed two divisions, 
my companions being roped with the guides Simond and Sem- 
^ C. D. Canoingham, in Alpine Journal, toI. xi. 


blement, and I with Ducroz, Payot, and the porters. A walk 
of four hours over the rough and broken glacier and then up 
a steep slope brought us to the foot of the rocks of the Grands 
Mulets, where, over our heads, was perched the hut, built on 
a ledge in a somewhat protected part of the peak. A drizzling 
rain set in while we were crossing the glacier ; but we kept 
on, thinking fair weather insured for the morrow by its being 
rainy then. 

The hut is a low, narrow contrivance, containing two small 
rooms for travellers, a kitchen, and a room with a row of 
bunks for guides. There are just enough tourists going as 
far as the Grands Mulets to pay the owner of the inn at the 
Pierre Pointue for keeping it stocked with provisions. We 
had quite a dinner at 2 p. M., tahle-^hdte^ consisting of soup 
(rather greasy), sardines, cold ham, nuts, almonds, and red 
wine. The water was miserable, — nothing but melted ice, — 
and this, or tea and coffee made from it, was all we had to 
drink for two days. 

The afternoon was dreary enough. Room No. 2 was occu- 
pied by some French people who had tried to climb the 
mountain the day before, and had failed ; so we were in close 
quarters, — restricted to one small room, eight by ten, with 
two bunks in it at that. Mingled snow and rain fell all the 
afternoon, and gusts of wind threatened now and then to take 
off our stone-laden roof. Nothing was visible out-of-doors, — 
the vale of Chamonix a blank, and the glorious summits 
enveloped in cloud and mist. How we stretched out on those 
bunks and tried to sleep ; then read the poetry and the remarks 
about the pleasures of a sojourn at the Grands Mulets, written 
on the walls by our predecessors ! I tried to smoke the others 
out, and then, after being put out myself, went and gossiped 
with the guides about the probabilities of the weather, and our 
hopes for the next day, but found they did not know so much 
about it as our barometer; a shrug of the shoulder meant 
that they could not decide. Then I ventured back into our 
room, and we soon turned in ; but the night was worse than 
the day, — fleas occupied our bunks, and terrors still larger 
kept us awake. Avalanches thundered all night from the 
Aiguille du Midi and from Mont Blanc du Tacul, down through 


the gorge, back of our rocky precipice, to the glacier below. 
We were safe from them ; but the sound was not pleasing to 
unaccustomed ears, being a little too near. Once in the night 
we were awakened by a terrific noise, a rush of rocks, and 
we thought the hut would go surely. We made for the door, 
but could see nothing. In the morning we found that the 
mass of rocks lying on the snow beneath had passed within 
a hundred feet of us, and we made up our minds that although 
the hut was protected from snow avalanches, it was in danger 
from falling rocks. 

The weather cleared soon after midnight, but the wind blew 
a hurricane. The guides did not call upon us to start ; but at 
eight o'clock, the wind dying down a little, we decided to set 
out, although the barometer said decidedly, " No." The moun- 
tain was clear, excepting what appeared to be cloud on the 
summits of the DSme du Gofiter and of Mont Blanc, but as 
we were told was snow being blown off the tops. We toiled 
upward for five hours, over crevasses and debris of avalanches, 
and up steep snow-slopes to the Bosse du Dromadaire, where 
the wind took us fearfully. Old Ducroz shook his head and 
said we must go back, or we would be blown off before we 
had gone a hundred feet higher. He showed us the place 
where twelve men were lost in 1870 ; that was enough to 
satisfy ua, and we retreated without much pluck left. 

The descent was tedious below the Grand Plateau ; it being 
then two o'clock, the crust was melted, while higher up the 
cold had kept it firm. At every step we sank deep in the snow, 
and getting over the big crevasses at the base of the D8me 
du Gouter was ticklish business, and, worst of all, we were 
caught in a dense mist. It was with difficulty that we could 
retrace our steps, as the wind tossing the snow had nearly 
obliterated our tracks, and there was nothing else to go by. 

When we reached the hut we held a council of war, and de- 
cided to remain another night and try again ; but clouds gath- 
ered, rain and snow began to fall, and we were disconsolate. 
We went to bed at seven and tried to get a little sleep. We 
were called up at eleven, the clouds having dispersed and the 
storm ceased. We had breakfast at midnight, — a slim one, as 
provisions were getting scarce, — and were ready to be off ; but 


a new trouble was upon us. Ducroz, the famous man, was 
snow-blind and sick, and Payot could not walk a step. We 
had to substitute a porter who was at the hut, and leave them 
behind. Simond then told us, in secret, never to hire an old 
guide again, no matter what his record might be ; and I think 
his advice pretty sound. In fact, most of the guides recom- 
mended in Baedeker and similar books, are past their prime, 
and not suited for difficult expeditions. 

We took a lantern (the light a tallow candle), and scrambled 
down the rocks to the snow. The night was most glorious ; 
every star twinkled with a lustre not often seen at lower ele- 
vations; Mars, near his brightest, shone like a sun; every- 
thing looked grand ; the neighboring peaks were ghostly and 
larger than by the light of day ; the crevasses had a peculiar 
yawning look about them. We went on and up, slower than 
the day before, yet not fast enough to get out of breath ; but 
at the base of the Ddme du Goiiter we were startled and made 
to hurry for a while, by hearjng and then seeing an avalanche 
fall from the side of that mountain. Fortunately it had not 
force enough to reach us ; but as we were then wading through 
lately fallen blocks of ice, we thought the locality not a very 
desirable one in which to linger. 

While climbing the rather sharp incline to the Grand Plateau, 
Semblement, who was leading, fainted dead away, but was 
restored with cognac, and had no more trouble for that day. 
When we reached the Bosse du Dromadaire, the wind began 
again, only not so strong as the day before, as we could deter- 
mine by the size of the clouds of snow blowing oflf the tops. 
We resolved to try at least, but first sat down on the rocks 
for a lunch and rest. Tlie day before we had indulged in vin 
ordinaire on our tramp ; but this time we had something much 
better for the mountaineer to depend upon, and that was cold 
tea, the only objection to it being that it was iced tea when we 
were ready for it. 

Now began two hours of hard work ; steps must be cut the 
greater part of the way. The wind blew stronger and stronger, 
but luckily at our backs. Simond looked rather doubtful of 
success ; but we kept on, walking on the ridge of the mountain, 
and that ridge very steeply inclined, its slope on both sides 



running off very steep for 2,000 feet. Then I eyed that guide 
and thought, '' Suppose he should faint now!" There are 
places where we should have been in danger from such an 
accident as befell Semblement that day ; and perhaps this oc- 
currence may explain some of the mysterious Alpine accidents, 
such as the loss of Mr. Balfour and his guide. 

A dense cloud began creeping up the mountain after us, 
which we were afraid would spoil our view ; but it was soon 
dissipated and lost in the air around us. While tugging away 
on a steep slope we heard a faint sound from Chamonix, away 
below us. It was the pop of a cannon. That put some extra 
life into us, but we had twenty minutes more of climbing 
before we reached the goal. The wind blew fiercely all the 
time, but we forgot all about the cold in our excitement 

The summit of Mont Blanc, as seen from Chamonix or the 
Col de Balme, appears like a huge dome, but in reality it is a 
narrow ridge, the actual summit a frozen snowdrift coming up 
to a feather edge. We stood in line on this ridge, and turned 
to view the landscape. Many writers among climbing frater- 
nities disparage the view from Mont Blanc, but I never have 
had such a sight, before or since, and I never expect to have 
such a view again. We were above everything. Chamonix 
lay buried in the valley over 12,000 feet beneath us, hut a 
white speck to the eye ; all the Aiguilles were far below us, 
and the Br^vent range on the opposite side of the valley was 
shrunken to a mound. The clouds were heaped and wedged 
between a few of the lower ranges, leaving every prominent 
peak in Switzerland recognizable. We could trace the outline 
of the Jura Mountains beyond Geneva, and the Maritime Alps 
near the Mediterranean, and could see far into the Tyrol. All 
the Zermatt group — Monte Rosa, the Matterhorn, the Weiss- 
horn, and the Brei thorn, which we knew so well — and the 
range of the Grand Combin, seemed right upon us ; the whole 
making an impression upon our minds not to be obliterated 
till memory is no more. 

The wind blew stronger, and we had to face it during the 
descent, the snow cutting our faces. I drew my hood down 
and tried to keep warm, but dared not let go one hand from 
my alpenstock to rub my ears and nose, for fear of slipping. 


There was considerable talk of frozen feet, and when we 
reached a level spot there was a general stamping, knocking, 
and pounding of toes with the axe-handles ; but we got down 
to the Grand Plateau all right, and there the danger from cold 
and wind was over. 

We left the summit at 8 a. m., and reached Chamonix at 8.40 
p. M., after halts at the Grands Mulcts and Pierre Pointue, 
bringing home Ducroz and Payot with us. We were not 
fatigued half so much as on the day before, when we had only 
walked seven hours ; but success made the difference in the 
state of our feelings. 

Report of the Recording Secretary for 1886. 

In respect to membership the year 1886 has been prosperous. 
The corporate membership is now 715 ; the losses amounting 
to 68, and the new members numbering 145, the net gain has 
been 77. There has been an increase of 5 in the list of Hon- 
orary Members. The following Corresponding Members have 
been elected to Honorary Membership : Professor George 
Davidson, Professor Archibald Geikie, Dr. P. V. Hayden, 
Professor S. P. Langley, Baron A. E. Nordenskiold, and Major 
J. W. Powell. Professor Edward Tuckerman died March 15. 
Among the Corresponding Members the following names ap- 
pear for the first time : Hon. Joseph P. Bradley, Lieutenant 
D. L. Brainerd, Captain C. E. Dutton, General A. W, Greely, 
Professor Albert Heim, Professor Edward S. Holden, Mr. 
William H. Holmes, Sir Joseph Dalton Hooker, Sefior An- 
tonio Raimondi, and Professor Arthur Schuster. Notice was 
received of the death of Mr. Alexander Murray, which took 
place in 1883. The Honorary and Corresponding Members 
now number, respectively, 15 and 43, — an increase of 5 and 
3 ; the Life Members number 34, — an increase of 11 ; and 
the total membership is 773, — an increase of 85. 

There have been held nine regular, and four special meet- 
ings, and one field meeting, — fourteen in all ; the average 
attendance has been over eighty. There were presented at 


these meetings four reports of Councillors* and twenty papers. 
Seven papers treated some section of the White Mountains, 
and two were illustrated with the lantern. 

The field meeting was held on the summit of Mt. Wash- 
ington, July 1-8. The attendance was 105 ; and in other re- 
spects, as well as in numbers, the meeting was probably the 
most successful ever held. Valuable papers were presented, 
and large parties Tisited the various summits and ravines of 
the Presidential Range. 

Excursions were made during the year to Middlesex Fells, 
Robin's Hill, Mt. Wachusett, Virginia, the Adirondacks, 
Groton, and Mt. Toby. 

The year has been marked by the introduction of a new 
feature in the excursion life of the Club, — the Outings, — 
Saturday afternoon walks informally arranged. The great 
success of this experiment proves the fondness of a large 
number of our members for outdoor exercise. 

In December a Snow-shoe Section was formed, its object 
being to encourage snow-shoeing as an outdoor exercise and 
as a help in mountain-climbing. Considerable interest is man- 
ifested, and it is hoped that a successful winter excursion may 
be made. 

The Club's tenth anniversary was celebrated by a Decennial 
Dinner, which took the place of the annual reception. It was 
held, March 5, at the Parker House, the attendance being 115. 
The first President of the Club, Professor E. C. Pickering, 

Vol. IV. No. S of Appalachia was issued in March. A 
map of Middlesex Fells, with an explanatory article, appeared 
in this number, and was also published separately, finding 
ready sale. In June advance sheets (" blue prints ") of the 
White Mountain map were issued on a scale of 1: 50,000, 
twice that on which the finished map is to be published. In 
the summer a photolithographic map of Williamstown and 
Greylock (the highest mountain in Massachusetts) was pub- 
lished from the original sheets of the topographical survey of 
the State now in progress, and on the original scale. In No- 
vember, Vol. I. No. 1 of Appalachia was republished to meet 
a want felt for several years. As in the case of later numbers 


of the magazine, the plates have been stereotyped. Vol. IV. 
No. 4 appears to-day/ and the Club is prepared to furnish all 
(he numbers of the four volumes. 

In December, 1885, we came into possession of our Club- 
room at 9 Park Street. To those members who are actively 
interested in the welfare of our Club, and are conversant with 
its work in all its various departments, it is very evident that 
a Club-room is now not only a convenience, but a necessity 
as a place for Council and Committee meetings, and as a 
r^x}sitory for our rapidly increasing collection of maps, books, 
etc. During the year the running expenses have been met by 
funds subscribed for that purpose in the autumn of 1885, and 
a subscription is now in progress which will soon be sufficient 
to meet the expenses for 1887. This method of paying the 
room expenses is not, however, advisable for future years. 
Not only is it unpleasant to solicit subscriptions year after 
year for the same object, but some members are probably 
deterred from using the room on account of inability to sub- 
scribe. The best policy, therefore, is for the Club to assume 
the room expenses. Pew organizations of any kind have been 
so fortunate as the Appalachian Mountain Club in securing 
voluntary workers, and much valuable time and labor have 
been expended in its behalf. I respectfully submit, therefore, 
that the Club should continue to offer to its workers ample 
facilities for the transaction of their various duties, and feel 
that nothing can be more highly appreciated than the present 
attractive and convenient quarters. 

Concerning the work accomplished in the five departments, 
I refer to the reports of the Councillors. 

The Council has compiled a set of Standing Rules for 
its own convenience. These provide certain standing commit- 
tees and the rules under which they act, and also regulate 
the routine work of the Council. They are not binding upon 
any Council unless adopted, and when adopted they may be 
easily amended. The Council of 1886 feel assured that the 
work of its successors will be facilitated by the adoption of 
these rules. 

Several important amendments to the By-laws have been 

1 Jan. 12, 1887 


made during the year. Nominations are now presented to the 
Club before they are approved by the Council, thus giving the 
latter body, before its action, the benefit of the criticisms of 
Club members. A by-law has been adopted which enables the 
Club to drop a name from the roll of members, proper notice 
having been given. Undoubtedly such action will seldom be 
taken; nevertheless, it is a wise provision, and enables the 
Club to protect itself when necessary. An amendment has 
passed establishing a Reserve Fund, the principal of which 
can be drawn by the Council only after careful consideration. 
To this fund the Council has appropriated 8700 of the funds 
which had accumulated in previous years. The Club itself 
has made an appropriation to the Permanent Fund, the in- 
come only of which is used. This appropriation, as well as the 
foregoing, was from the cash on hand at the beginning of the 

The most important amendment, however, has been the 
establishment of a board of three Trustees, who have charge of 
the investment of the Permanent and Reserve Funds. This 
provision seems of special importance, because it provides the 
Club with all the legal machinery necessary or desirable for 
receiving and investing large funds, and because its excellent 
work accomplished during the past eleven years, and its future 
work of practically unlimited possibilities conclusively prove 
that it is an organization destined to live as long as our civil- 
ization, if not as long as the everlasting hills. The Club is 
now fully prepared to receive gifts and legacies, and to spend 
the money advantageously or invest it permanently, according 
to the wishes of the giver or testator. In addition to the in- 
come from annual fees, which should be expended, as now, 
for the regular work of the Club (for postage, printing, bind- 
ing, constructing mountain paths, publishing papers and 
maps), we need permanent funds, the income of which shall 
provide for the rental of our Club-room, for field work in the 
Department of Topography, for the purchase of books on 
alpine and geographical subjects, for the better illustration 
of Appalachia, etc. A fund which would provide for the 
entire expenses of Appalachia would be an immense boon, as 
the Club would thus be enabled to pay for the large amount 


of clerical work at present voluntarily done. Moreover, it is 
not unreasonable to expect that our Club will some day own 
mountains for the purpose of protecting Nature and enabling 
man to enjoy her beauties and her grandeur. Why should not 
the Appalachian Mountain Club possess the title to Chocorua 
or Ktaadn, or even some of the hills near Boston ? To those 
members of our Club who have means to spare, these matters 
are specially recommended for consideration. 
Bespectfully submitted, 


Becording Secretary, 

Annual Report of the Corresponding Secretary for 1886. 

It is an interesting fact that while the Corresponding Sec- 
retary can take to himself little credit for personal initiative 
and activity during the year that has just closed, the interests 
committed to his care have in some respects prospered beyond 
all preceding years. The causes are not — or perhaps it might 
be more just to say, the cause is not — far to seek, and will 
appear in the course of this report. 

The amount of correspondence held with foreign societies 
has been less by considerable than in former years ; yet the 
relations already established have remained unchanged, and 
no one of the societies which have honored us with recogni- 
tion is missed from our roll. On the other hand, certain new 
ones — five in number — have been added, all at their own 
solicitation. These are, with one exception, geographical 
societies, — the Socidt^ de Geographic Commerciale de Paris, 
the Society de Geographic de Tours, the Society des Sciences et 
de Geographic de Haiti, the Verein der Geographic an der 
Universitat Wiein ; the remaining one is the k. k. Hofmuseum, 
also at Vienna. At home our list has been extended by a 
single society, yet one whose absence was noticeable where 
many of the leading geographical societies of the world have 
for some years been enrolled, — the American Geographical 
Society of New York, which has most cordially accepted our 


inyitation for exchange, and sent as an earnest of its good-will 
an almost complete set of its publications. The remaining 
correspondence was chiefly with the gentlemen elected to Corre- 
sponding and Honorary Membership during the year. Nearly 
all have accepted, with expressions of cordial interest in the 
work of the Club and of respect for its efficiency. 

The report I am able to make upon the library, the especial 
charge of this office, is satisfactory beyond that of any pre- 
ceding year, both as regards the number of accessions, and 
the extent to which the library has been availed of by the 
members of the Club, whether for reference or more extended 
reading at home. This is the direct and natural result of that 
wise movement whereby the Club secured for itself a home, 
and at the same time a place to bestow its goods. So long 
as our possibilities for stowage — not to say display — were 
limited by the shelves of a single small alcove, there was 
slight inducement to add to our wealth in books. Still less 
when it was only now and then that a member of the Club 
overcame the natural hesitancy to enter rooms completely 
devoted to other special interests. Transferred to our own 
quarters, displayed more completely with the more than 
doubled shelf-room, the facility of use hedged about by no 
restrictions, the existence of the library, its nature and utility, 
have claimed the attention of all who have entered our already 
much prized Club-room. New sources of supply were opened. 
The Council at once appropriated $100 for the purchase of 
books for the year 1886. Several valuable acquisitions have 
been made ; and if the whole sum has not been expended it 
must be attributed to the forced neglect of the librarian ex 
officio. Some twenty volumes have been purchased from this 
appropriation, the titles of which will be found in the appendix 
(A.) to this report. 

Donations have likewise increased in numbers and value. 
Under this head special mention should be made of the very 
valuable set of publications of the Club Alpin Frangais, 
through the intermediary of our fellow-member Mr. E. A. 
Martel, the librarian of that society, to whom we are also 
indebted for other contributions. This donation comprises 
no less than sixteen volumes, of which six are the handsome 


annuals of the Glub^ unsurpassed in alpine literature for their 
elegance, and the remaining ten a complete set of the Bulletin 
of the Society. Indeed, our collection of the regular publica* 
tions of the French Alpine Club lacks but a single volume, 
the first " Annuaire," which we shall obtain, if at all, only by 
some peculiar favor of fortune. Our members are urgently 
invited to keep in mind this desideratum. 

From Professor James Hall of Albany, N. Y., an Honorary 
Member, we have received a donation of eighteen volimies, 
principally the annual reports of the New York State Cabinet 
of Natural History and Museum of Natural History. Mr, E. 
C. Eastman, to whom we are also otherwise indebted, has con- 
tributed an especially valuable donation, — the Report of the 
New Hampshire State Geological Survey (3 quarto volumes), 
with accompanying atlas. Under this head I may again 
mention the nineteen volumes of its publications given by 
the American Geographical Society. Due acknowledgment 
of other valuable donations from members of the Club and 
others appears in the appendix. The additions to the library 
from various sources during the year amount to about 180 
volumes, besides numerous pamphlets. There are at present 
upon our shelves some 650 volumes, exclusive of pamphlets 
of less than 100 pages.^ Many of .these are still unbound ; 
but the number of unbound volumes will decrease year by 
year, if the Comicil continues to grant to this department the 
same generous support as heretofore. Thirty volumes have 
been bound during the past year. 

Not only has our collection of books increased as never 
before, but, what is of quite as much interest, there has been 
a large increase in the extent to which they have been used. 
In former years possibly a half dozen persons at the most took 
books from the library. The record shows that during 1886 
twenty-eight persons took out about a hundred volumes. 
While a great advance on former years, this is by no means 
what we may expect in the future, when more of our mem- 
bers shall avail themselves of the privileges of the room, — 
no longer then, it is to be hoped, an annex supported by 

1 This diitinction accounts for the apparent discrepancy between this and the 
preceding report 


private Bubscription, but recognized among the foremost 
and most indispensable interests of the Club, and as such 
maintained out of the general treasury. 

A set of rules with regard to the use of the library was 
framed at the beginning of the year. They are exceedingly 
simple, the policy being to leave to members the greatest 
freedom compatible with security and fairness to all. They 
are as follows : — 

1. No publication shall be taken from the library without record, 
which shall be kept by the librarian in a special book or charging list. 

2. Books may be retained three weeks, and, if kept longer, may, at 
the discretion of the librarian, be recovered by messenger, at the expense 
of the borrower. 

3. Before being lent, periodicala ahall lie on the table for two weeks 
and until catalogued. 

4. Maps and starred volumes shall be taken from the library only by 
special permission of the librarian, indorsed on the written request of 
the borrower. 

As yet no books have been taken out of circulation under 
the fourth rule ; but it seems proper so to except atlases and 
guide-books, especially those of regions which the Club is 
likely to visit, as they are liable to disappear when most needed 
for consultation. So, too, works of exceptional value or rarity, 
of which we possess a few. Though all our books are in open 
cases, it is not known that even with all this freedom a single 
one has been lost during the year. 

In my last report the promise was made to arrange and 
catalogue the maps belonging to the Club so that they might be 
readily consulted. This has recently been done. For the first 
time, probably, since they were catalogued by Mr. Dimmock 
in 1877, our maps have been carefully inspected, and we are 
able to see just what we possess. The number is not large, 
though it has more than doubled since that early day. Aside 
from what we have received from the governmental depart- 
ments and surveys, and from the donations of our fellow-mem- 
ber, Mr. Walling, there is comparatively little worthy of especial 
mention. During the past year, besides the numerous new 
sheets issued by the United States Geological Survey and the 
atlas sheets accompanying the Report of the State Geological 


Survey of New Hampshire, a few maps have been received 
through donation or purchase, which are mentioned below. 
The elegant atlas of Stieler, especially valuable for.the Eastern 
Continent, is among the purchases from the appropriation 
mentioned above. The whole number of maps appears to be 
379. This does not include the separate sheets in atlases, 
bound or unbound, but does reckon separately the sheets of 
large sets, like those issued by the United States Geological 
Survey. A classification will be found in the appendix (B). 
Considerable as the aggregate number of our maps may seem, 
it is in many ways very meagre. While the great West is 
very fully represented, the East makes a really pitiful show- 
ing. Even our own State is discreditably represented ; to make 
up eleven, everything has been counted. Once more I would 
renew the suggestion of last year, that an eflfort be made to 
secure old maps of New England. Each member may be able 
to do something. The old chart or sketch map in some out- 
of-the-way corner of one's attic might prove a prize in such 
a collection as ours should aim to become. 

In retiring from an office held now for five years, and in the 
performance of the duties of which I have found so much 
that was congenial and profitable, a few words in the way of 
its history, especially as related to the growth of our library, 
may not be out of place, especially as the close of our first 
decade has been prolific in such recapitulations. The Corre- 
sponding Secretaryship, however, is not ten years old. It was 
not created until June, 1880, four years later than the organ- 
izing of the Club, when the increasing duties of our single 
Secretary rendered it necessary to grant him relief. To the 
new officer was committed at first simply the official corre- 
spondence of the Club. The library, which at the time con- 
sisted of a promiscuous pile of books and papers in a locked 
case of the Physical Laboratory of the Institute of Technology, 
was still under the care of the Recording Secretary. 

It may be interesting to know what it contained, and how 
the material had collected. In the first report of the Record- 
ing Secretary for 1876, Mr. Henck indulges a hope that " we 
shall be able by gifts and loans and by purchases to collect a 
library of books and maps of interest to the members." As a 


beginning he is able to announce a list of ten books and 
pamphlets, among which New Hampshire and New Soutii 
Wales are represented by four apiece. The other two were 
the brief story in Italian of an ascent of Mont Blanc, and a 
copy of " La Revue G^ographique," " containing an article on 
Central Africa, illustrated by a map of the region/' Such 
were the beginnings, — surely broad and cosmopolitan! 

The year 1877 witnessed a decided advance. The Secretary 
was able to say that " the library of the Club has grown from 
a few pamphlets to a considerable collection of bound volumes, 
pamphlets, and maps, for the most of which we are indebted to 
the heads of the United States Government Surveys." Six 
societies, of which two are foreign, are mentioned as having 
sent their publications in exchange for Appalachia ; and 
reference is made to Mr. Dimmock's painstaking catalogue ^ 
printed in our Club publication.* 

In his report for 1878 the same officer announces that " the 
library of the Club has increased considerably during the 
year," and adds, ^^ It is hoped that pcraons having books or 
maps of use to the Club, which they can spare, will look upon 
this library as a proper and safe place for them." Their safety 
still remained more noteworthy than their accessibility. 

In 1879, again, "the library of the Club has increased con- 
siderably during the year, among the most important additions 
being a number of valuable reports and maps from the 
Government Surveys." 

In the report of the Recording Secretary for 1880, the year 
when this office was divided, the library is mentioned with an 
access of interest : " The library continues to increase, and 
through the exertions of our President and Corresponding 
Secretary a very important source of additions to it, which 
had not formerly received the attention it deserved, is being 
actively developed. I mean the exchange of publications for 
those of other societies whose objects are similar to our own, 

1 An analysis of that catalogue seems to show that there were then in the 
library 52 Tolumes ; 21 pamphlets (each less than 100 pages) ; 136 separate 
mnps, chiefly from the Coast Survey and tlie War Department; and 3 aUases, 
also from the War Department. 

^ Appalachia, vol. i. p. 290. 


and whose ready and eourteons recognition of us has been a 
compliment which we liave but tardily reciprocated." From 
the Corresponding Secretary's report of that year, the first 
ever made, it appears tliat a copy of Appalachia had that 
year been sent to forty-one societies in the various countries 
of Europe, witli a circular inviting to exchange of publications. 
Thus we see the character of the library when the Corre- 
sponding Secretaryship was created, and the new officer ap- 
pears to have exercised at once a beneficent effect upon it. 

The effect of the circular letter just mentioned did not be- 
come apparent until the following year. Meanwhile Mr. Henck 
had been compelled to resign, and Mr. Curtis was transferred 
to the Recording Secretaryship ; while our just-retiring Presi- 
dent, Mr. Edmands, was induced to give his valuable services 
to the Council for the ensuing year by assuming this office. 
My own term of office began the year following (1882). That 
year witnessed the transfer of the library to the care of the 
Corresponding Secretary, and the still more important transfer 
of our books to the alcove some years before placed at our dis- 
posal by the Society of Natural History, Henceforth the 
charge and chief interest of a special officer, it is not strange 
that a more steady and possibly rapid growth awaited the 
library. With the increasing list of corresponding societies it 
was bound to increase, and perhaps more donations were 
received after it came forth to the light of day. 

As possibly interesting matter to some, a synoptical table, 
showing the increase year by year in our list of correspond- 
ing societies, is given in the appendix (C). It naturally divides 
into three sections : the first from 1876 to 1880, the year the 
office of Corresponding Secretary was created ; then the single 
year 1881, which witness the results of the circular sent 
abroad by the Corresponding Secretary, Mr. Curtis; lastly, 
from 1882 to 1886 inclusive. In the first five years the 
average addition was 8 + ; in the last five, 6. 

Perhaps no special inferences are to be drawn, unless it 
be that the Club is gaining in reputation abroad, and that with 
an officer especially interested to increase the list of corre- 
sponding societies, growth is more probable than without such 
an officer. There is, of course, a limit where additions would 


cease to be desirable or worth the cost^ but there is no danger 
of our reaching it for some time to come. 
Bespectfullj submitted, 


Corrtipanding Secretary. 



From Corresponding Societies. 

Academy of Natural Sciences (Philadelphia), — Proceedings 1886. Parts 

Adirondack and State Land Survey, — Adirondack Fishes, appended to 

twelfth report. Report on Adirondack and State Laud Surveys to 

the year 1884. 
American Geographical 5oci«/y. —Bulletin, 1875; 1876, 1; 1882, 1-6; 

1883, 1-7; 1884, 1-5; 1885, 1-3; 1886, 1. 
California Academy of Sciences, — Bulletin, 1886, 4, 5. 
Essex Institute, — BuWeiin, Vol. XVIL 4-12; Vol. XVIIL 1-6. 
Geological and Natural History Survey of Canada, — Summary report to 

Dec. 31, 1885. Catalogue of Collection of Economic Minerals of 

Geological and Natural History Survey of Minnesota, — Report, Vols. 


Torrey Botanical C/ti6. — Bulletin, Vol. XIL 12; Vol. XIII. 1-11; Vol. 
XIV. 1. 

United States Geological Survey, — Mineral Resources of the United . 
States, 1883-84; Bulletin, 15-29; Fifth Annual Report, 1883-84; 
Monographs, Vol. IX. 

United States War Department. — Report on Third International Geo- 
graphical Congress and Exhibition at Venice. 


Associacid d' Excursions Catalana, — Buttletf, Any VIII. 87-97. Excursid 
col-lectiva h la conca baixa del Noya. Gufa del Monseny. 

Club Alpin Beige, — Bulletin, 1886, 8. 

Club Alpin Fran^ais, — (Direction Centrale) Annuaire, 1875-80, 1885; 
Bulletin, 1876-85, 1886, 1-8. (Section dcs Alpes Maritimes) Bulletin, 
VI. (Section Lyonnaise) Bulletin, V. (Section du Sud-Ouest) Bulletin, 
Nos. 18, 19. 


Club Alpino Italiano. — (Direzione Centrale) Annuario XX. No. 62 ; In- 
dice general dei cinqnanta piimi numeri del Bollettino del C. A. I.; 
Bivista, Vol. IV. 1-11. (Sezione Fiorentina) Annuario, 1886. 

Club Alpin Suisse. — (Comiie Central) Jahrbuch, 1885-86, mit Beilagen; 
Bepertorium nnd Ortsregister fiir die Jahrbiicher, I. bis XX. des 
S. A. C. (Section Genevoise) L'Echo des Alpes, 1885, 4; 1886, 1-3. 

Den Norshe Turistforening, — Arbog, 1885. 

Deutseher und Oesterreiehischer Alpenverein, — Zeitschrift, Bde. XVI., 
XVII.; Mittheilungen, 1885, 13-24; 1886, 1-19. 

Magyarorszdgi Karpdt-egyesiUet, — Jahrbuch, XIII. 

Oesterreichischer Alpenclub. — Oesterreichische Alpen-Zeitung, VII. 1885. 

Oesterreichischer Touristen-Club, — Oesterreichische Touristen-Zeitung, V. 
13; VI. 1-24; Chronik, 1885. 

SiebenbUrgischer Karpatkenterein, — Jahrbuch, VI. 

Societa Alpina Friulana. — Cronaca, IV. 1884. 

Societh degli Alpinisti Tridentini. — Annuario, XI. 1884-85. 

Societa Alpina delle Giulie. — Atti e Memorie; Statuto, 1886. 

ThUringenoald'Verein, — Jahresbericht, VI. 

GeselUchq/t fir Erdkunde (Berlin). — Verhandlungen, Bd. XII. 9, 10; 

Bd. XIII. 1-9. 
Imp. Russkoye Geographitcheskoye Ohshtschestvo. — Izviestiya, XX. 6; 

XXII. 1, 2, 3; Otchet, 1885. 
Kais,'kdnigliche Geographische GeseUschafi, — Mittheilungen, 1885. 
Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap. — Tijdschrift II. Ser. II. 

Deel. 9, 10; III. Deel. 1, 2, 5-8. 
Royal Geographical Society. — Proceedings, Vol. VIII. 1, 2, 4-12. 
Scottish Geographical Society, — Magazine, Vol. II. 1-12. 
Sociedad Geografica (Madrid). — Boletin, Tomo XIX. 5, 6; XX. 2-6; 

XXI. 1, 2. 
Sociedade de Geographia (Lisbon). — Boletim, 4* Ser. 3-5, 8, 9, 12; 5* 

Ser. 3,6,7,8; 6* Ser. 1,2. 
Societa Geografica /to/tana. — Bollettino, Ser. II., Vol. XI. 1-11. 
Socieie'de Geographic Commerciale (Bordeaux). — Bulletin, 2* Ser. 9« Ann. 

1886, 1-21. 
Socielede Geographic Commerciale (Paris). —Bulletin, Tome VII. 4; VIII. 

1, 2; Supplement, 1. 
Societt de Geographic de Tours. — Bevne, 3* Ann., 6-10. 
Soctete Royale de Geographic d^ Anvers. — Bulletin, Tome X. 4-6; XI. 1, 

2; Memoires, III. 
Sociel^ KUdiviale de Geographic. — BvWe^n^ II* Ser. 8, 9; Notices Bio- 

graphiques de S. £. Mahmoud Pacha, el Falaki. 
Verein der Geographic an der Univcrsitdt Wien. — Bericht uber das XL 

Verein fir Erdkunde (Leipsic). — Mittheilungen, 1884, mit Beilage: Die 

Seen der deutschen Alpen. 


From Other Exchanges. 

Outing, Vol. Vn. 5, 6; Vni. 1-5. 

Allgemeine Deutsche Touiisten-Zeitung, Jahrg. m. 1-5, 8, 9, 11, 12. 
AuDalen des kais.-kon. iiaturhistorischen Hofmuseums, Bd. I. No. 1-4. 
Revue G<Sographique Internatioiiale, Nos. 121-124, 127-132. 


Alpine Journal, Vol. XI. Nos. 83, 84; XII. 8&-00. 

Science, Vol. VII. Nos. 152-178; Vol. VIU. 179-206. 

New England Meteorological Society, Bulletin, 1-25; Extract from Bulle- 
tin No. 12. 

View from Moose Hill (Sharon, Mass.)* E. G. Chcmberlain,^ 

Map of the White Mountains, 1853. 

Out-Door Papers. T, W, Higginson, 

Travels in the Regions of the Upper and Lower Amoor. 

Report of a Commission appointed to consider a general system of 
Drainage for the valley of the Mystic, Blackstone, and Charles Rivers. 

Bibliographical Contributions (Harvard College Library), No. 18. 

Life and Nature in Southern Labrador. 

Eastman's Eastern Coast Guide. 1 r? n Eastma 


Eastman's White Mountains. 

Geology of New Hampshire (with Atlas). 

New York State Cabinet of Natural History and Museum of Natural 

History, Reports, Vols. XX.-XXVII., XXIX.-XXXI., XXXHI.- 

Coutributions to the Geological History of the American Continent. 

(James Hall.) 
American Geographical and Statistical Society (see also above, under Cor- 
responding Societies), Bulletin, Vol. I., II., 1852-56; Journal, Vol. I. ; 

11. 2; ni.-VIL; IX.-XIII. Proceedings, Vol. I. 1-4; II. 1, 2. 
Boston Society of Natural History, Occasional Papers, III. 
Centennial Map of Concord, 1875. 
Blue Hill Meteorological Observatory, Summary of Observations for year 

ending Jan. 31, 1886. 
Local Geography, with topographical and historical sketch of Hyde Park, 

Mass. E. G. Chamberlain. 
Appalachia, Vol. IV. 3. 

L'homme pal6olithique et la poterie pal. dans la Loz^re. E, A. Martel. 
Le Canon du Tarn. E. A. MarteL 
Le Causse noir et Montpellier-le-Vieux. E. A, Martel, 
Nouvelle Carte d' Italic. 

1 Where the authors are also donors and members of the Club, their names 
are in italics. 


Clab Alpin Fran^ais, Section de la Loz^re et des Cansses, Bulletin No. 1 ; 
Proc^-verbal de la Reunion et Statuts. 

Rambles in the Northwest. J. Hayes Panton. 

Smithsonian Institution, Annual Report of Board of Regents, 1884. 
Report for 1884, Part II. 

To the Mountains and the Sea-shore through the Battle-fields of Virginia. 

Das Touristische Yereinswesen und seine Bedeutung fUr unsere Zeit. 

Locarno and its Valley. J. Hardmeyer. 

London of To-day: An illustrated handbook for 1886. 

In the Jotunheim. James Sully. 

The Berkshire Hills. J. F. A. Adams, M.D. 

Ethologia de Blanes. D. Joseph Cortils y Vieta. 

In the Heart of the Alleghanies. By H. M. (from the << Boston Tran- 

The Island of Nantucket. E. K. Godfrey. 

The Aliens. I H. T. Keenan. 

The Mone3rmaker8. > 

Summer Saunterings. 

Amstadt's Vorzeit. 

Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Abstract of the Proceedings of 

the Society of Arts, 1885-86. 
The Mountain Meteorological Stations of Europe. A. Lawrence Rotch, 
The Winnipeg Country. 5. H. Scudder. 
A Plea for Mt. Pequauket. E. G. Chamberlain. 
The Oberland and its Glaciers. H. B. George. 
A Geological Map of the United States. C. H. Hitchcock. 
United States Bureau of Education, Circulars of Information, 1886, 1. 
Ticknor's New England. \ 

Osgood's White Mountains. >■ M, F, Sweetser. 
Osgood's Maritime Proyinces. ) 
Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada. Clarence King. 

Stieler's Hand-Atlas. 

Lippincott's Pronouncing Gazetteer of the World. 
The Earth. Elisee Reclus. . 
The Adirondacks. S. R. Stoddard. 
Map of the Adirondack Wilderness. S. R. Stoddard. 
Hours of Exercise in the Alps. J. Tyndall. 
The High Alps of New Zealand. W. S. Green. 
Camps in the Rockies. W. A. Baillie-Grohman. 
The Maine Woods. Thoreau. 
Taghconic. " Godfrey Greylock." 
Tartarin sur les Alpes. A. Daudet. 
Incidents in White Mountain History. B. G. Willey. 
Norwegian Pictures. Richard Loyett. 



Baedeker's Switzerland. 

Life in the Open Air. Theodore Winthrop. 

TranflcancaeuB and Ararat. James Bryoe. 

A Gazetteer of Massachusetts. John Hayward. 

Historical Belies of the White Mountains. John H. Spaolding. 


Maps in the Library of the Club. 


A. M. C. Cluh maps 

Canada. Sheets of GeoL and Nat. Hist. Sunreys 38 

Miscellaneous . 8 

Maine. Walling's County maps 

Nkw Hampshire. Walling's County maps 6 

Chart of principal range of White Mts . 1 

Wall map 1 

Atlas of State Geological Survey . . 1 

Vermont. Walling's County maps 

Massachusetts. Miscellaneous 

New Yore. Guyot's Map of Catskills 

North Carolina. State map 

United States. Department of the Interior, 

Hayden Survey 12 

U. S. Geological Survey . . 78 

Atlases 4 

Land Office State maps ... 16 
Other maps 8 118 

War Department, 
Engineer's Department, Atlases 4 
Military and topographical maps 41 45 

Coast and Geodetic Survey. 

Charts 99 

Miscellaneous. Northern Transcontinental Survey . . 
Other maps 












List of Cobrsspokdino Societies, in Order of Accbftanox. 

1876. Bocky Mountain Club; Bevne G4og. Internationale. (2) 

1877. White Mountain Club; Essex Institute; Cambridge Entomo- 

logical Society; Vermont Historical Society; Club Alpino 
Italiano (Direzione Centrale) ; Norske Turistforening. (6) 

1878. Geological and Natural History Survey of Minnesota; Club Al- 

pin Fran9ais (Sud-Ouest) ; Tokio Daigaku. (3) 

1879. New York State Survey; Associacid d' Excursions Catalans. (2) 

1880. Academy of Natural Sciences (Philadelphia) ; Adirondack Survey ; 

Club Alpin Fran9ais (Section des Alpes Maritimes); Society 
Alpina Friulana. (4) 

1881. American Museum of Natural History (New York); White 

Mountain Echo; C A, F. (Auvergne); C A, /.(Florence); 
Club Alpin Suisse (Geneva); D. und Oe. Alpenverein (Central 
and Frankfort a. M.); Oesterreichischer Alpenclub; Oe. Tour- 
isten-Club; Siebenbiirgischer Karpathenverein; Geographical 
Societies: Berlin, Imperial Russian, Royal (England), Lisbon, 
Bordeaux, Antwerp, Kh^diviale (Cairo). (18) 

1882L New Hampshire Historical Society; United States Geological 
Survey; Torrey Botanical Club; Geological and Natural His- 
tory Survey of Canada; Outing; Scientific Roll; C. A. I. 
(Vicenza); Verein fiir Erdkunde zu Leipzig. (8) 

1883. C. A. F. (Direction Centrale); C. A. S. (Comitd Central); 

Societk degli Alpinisti TridenUni; Society Alpina delle Giulie 
(formerly Triestini)^ Kais.-kon. Geographische Gesellschaft 
(Vienna); Deutsche Touristen-Zeitung. (6) 

1884. United States Signal Office; California Academy of Sciences; D. 

und Oe. Alpeny. (Bonn) ; Geographical Societies : Greifswald^ 
Some, Madrid. (6) 

1885. Magyarorszigi-Karpit-egyesiilet ; Thuringerwald-Verein ; Scottish 

Geog. Society; Nederlandsk Aardrijkskundig Genootschap. (4) 

1886. American Geographical Society; Soci^t^ de Geographic Commer- 

ciale de Paris; Society de Geographic de Tours; Society des 
Sciences et de G^graphie d'Haiti; Verein fiir Erdkunde an der 
Universitftt Wien; K. k. Hof museum zu Wien. (6) 


Treasurer's Report for 1886. 

Reckiptb for ths Tsar rndino Dec. 31, 1886. 

Balance on hand, Jan. 1, 1886 : 

Room SubsciiptionB $450.41 

General Fonda 1,831.26 


Admission fees from 142 new members 426.00 

Assessments from 30 members for 1885. 

•* " 8 " •« 1887. 

' Total .. 477 at 93 1,481.00 

life-Memberships : Gardner M. Jones, C. R. Lan- 

man, George O. Smith, Frank O. Carpenter, Miss 

Agnes A. Davis, Mrs. Sidney Clementson, Wil- 
liam Herbert Rollins, George G. Kennedy, Mrs. 

S. A. Woods, William H. Peek, Cheever Kew- 

hall, --11 at 930 830.00 

Sales of Appalachia and other publications : 

Numbers and bound yolumes .... f74.66 

Middlesex Fells Reprint 83.88 

Map of Greylock and Williamstown . . 42.35 

Blueprint Map of White Mountains, is- 
sued by Department of Topography ' . 47.05 


Donations : 

For De Saussure Monument .... f 17.00 

" A. M. C. Room 847.20 


Balance returned by Committee on Field Meetings 

and Excursions 124.35 

Balance returned by Committee on Annual Reception 12. 50 
Interest on Investments 88.62 


Payments fob the Year 1886. 

Postage and stationery 1210.20 

Printing and advertising 213.18 

Clerical services 121.45 

Expenses of meetings 69.50 

Amount carried forward $623.33 


Amount brought forward $623.83 

Appalachia : 

Vol. IV. No. 3 »390.96 

Vol. IV. No. 4 291.08 

Reprint of Vol. I. No. 1 134.00 

Middlesex Fells 18.40 

Delivery, postage, etc 27.57 


Map of Williamstown and Greylock 61.00 

Permanent Fund, deposited in Suffolk Savings Bank 270.00 

Donation for De Saussure Monument 49.88 

Department of Natural History, mainly for ther- 
mometers and rain gauges 67.65 

Department of Topography : 

For blueprints issued for correction . . (41.83 

For work on White Mountain map . . 86.40 


Department of Art, for photogpraphs 6.85 

Department of Improvements : 

For work on Mt. Pleasant Path . . . $19.00 

•• Carter-Notch " ... 15.00 

'* Mt. Adams Camp .... 9.00 

For signboards for Carter-Moriah Path . 8.00 


A. M. C. Library : 

For books $55.70 

*« binding, cataloguing, etc 76.02 


A. M. C. Room, for furniture, rent, heat, care, etc. 667 80 
Annual Reception ^ 101.65 

Balance on hand, Dec. 81, 1886 : 

Permanent Fund, awaiting investment .... 208.38 

Reserve Fund 700.00 

Room subscriptions for 1887 274.70 

General Funds 648.68 



The Permanent Fund consists of $1,320, being the amount received 
from 84 Life-Members at $30 each, and $300 appropriated by the Club. 
Of this, $1,111.62 is deposited in the Suffolk Savings Bank, and the bal- 
ance is awaiting investment. 

GARDNER M. JONES, Treasurer, 

^ The Decennial Celebration. 



BosTOif. Jan. 11, 1887. 
The nndenigned hare examined the aoconnts of Gardner M. Jones, Treasurer 
of the Appalacliian Mountain Ciab, for the year 188G, and find tliem properly 
kept and correctly balanced, with satisfactory Touchers for all payments. 
The assets of the Club are — 

Permanent Fund on deposit Oct 26, 1886, in Suffolk 

SaTingsBank $1,111.62 

Cash in hands of Treasurer 1,881.76 

Chab. W. Kennard, 

S. E. D. Currier, } Auditors. 

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Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1886, 

Natural History. 

By W. M. Davis. 

Five stations in the White Mountain region have been sup- 
plied with rain-gauges and maximum and minimum thermom- 
eters, as follows : Berlin Mills, Quincy, Shelbume, Stratford, 
and West Milan. Records of precipitation and temperature 
are received every month and published by the New England 
Meteorological Society in their Bulletin, in connection with 
some 140 reports from other parts of New England. As the 
length of the record increases, it will be possible to summarize 
the results in so far as they relate to the mountain region, and 
present them to the Club for publication. 

It is still desired to increase the number of stations in the 
mountain towns ; the expense is only the first cost of the 
instruments, — about $12.00, a station, — and after this simple 
establishment, the work runs along without much trouble to 
the Club, and the observations continually increase in value. 
It was in part with this object in view that a circular was 
prepared and sent last spring to all members, asking their 
assistance in securing responsible observers in good situations ; 
but such observers seem to be rare, as no responses to the 
circular have been received. 

In order to call more attention to the peculiar problems of 
mountain meteorology, your Councillor has prepared an essay 
on this subject, now published in Appalachia. It is desired 
that this may in time lead to the recognition and description 
of the many curious and interesting phenomena of winds and 
temperature in our own mountains, — in the West as well as 
in New England, — so that we shall no longer have so gener- 
ally to go abroad for our knowledge and illustration of these 

Owing to the inability of your Councillor to visit the moun- 
tains where his counsel might be of most avail, he has regret- 
fully been unable to advance the interests of the Club in his 


department by a satisfactory step. The geological and geo- 
graphical work needed at tiie beginning of the year of his 
service is still needed, and still undone. 

Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1886, 


Bt a. £. Burton. 

It is with a strong feeling of disappointment that in sum- 
ming up the work of the year the Councillor finds so small a 
total of work accomplished. 

The demands on the time of the Councillor from other 
directions have prevented much personal cflfort, and oblige him 
to report that the map of the White Mountains is still in 
manuscript form. 

The blue prints of the skeleton map issued early in the 
summer were quickly taken up by members of the Club, and 
although many of them may have been used in the manner 
suggested, hardly any returns have as yet been received giving 
additional information for the map. 

Some field work was done during the summer in the vicinity 
of Gorham, N.H., by the Councillor, checking summits already 
located and adding details. 

The manuscript map will soon be hung in the Club-room for 
inspection and criticism. 

The map of Middlesex Fells by Mr. R. B. Lawrence has, we 
are informed, met with a ready sale, which shows a very 
gratifying interest in local topography. 

The map of Greylock issued during the year is certainly a 
credit to the enterprise of the Club. 

Tracings from the maps of the vicinity of Blue Hill by Mr. 
Chamberlain have been made, and blue prints of these will be 
placed in the Club-room in a few days. 

ABT, 73 

Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1886. 


Bt C. W. Sakdebson. 

The Councillor of Art for the Appalachian Club finds his 
province a small part of the great whole^ of one of the most 
thoroughly organized and equipped clubs in all Christendom. 

The undersigned is more and more impressed, after at- 
tending repeated meetings of the Council, with the thorough 
manner in which the affairs and business of the Club are 
conducted. The many details of more or less importance 
are carried out to the fullest extent of the Pre-Raphaelite 
School of Art. Nothing is left to the imagination, — the 
mid-distances, even, are microscopic. Surely no impression- 
ism nor modern slap-dash finds its way into our technical 
work. The realistic is forcibly manifest in our symposia ; but 
when we flee to the woods and mountains, then all that is 
ideal and poetic in our natures is called out, — united with 
the real, thus making us all artists indeed. 

Those who had the good fortune to visit the Adirondacks 
in September, and lift up their eyes unto the hills whence 
Cometh their help, have reason to be most profoundly grateful 
to Him who holds the mountains in all their strength. The 
golden week in the Adirondacks will ever stand foremost in 
our budget of dried time. Words are inadequate to express 
the delight and inspiration vouchsafed to the forty Appa- 
lachians during the heavenly days and glorious moonlight 
nights at the camps, on the shores of the altogether lovely 
Ausable Lake. 

It is to be hoped that in future excursions those members 
who have cameras will if possible put them to the test in the 
mountain regions, and thus bring comparative results to our 
Club-room for inspection and study. Mr. T. E. M. White, of 
Concord, N. H.,one of our members, has already accomplished 
valuable work in photographing the hills and valleys of New 


Hampshire, of which he has contributed — one large superb 
picture representing the striking and well-known view from 
Mt. Willard of the Crawford Notch and the distant valley, 
the artistic merit of which deserves special mention; and 
twelve comparatively large, and twelve ^smaller-sized photo- 
graphs, which are in file in the Club-room for our study and 

Mr. Gardner H. Scudder has contributed small and very 
interesting winter views, some of which are of more than 
ordinary merit. 

Miss H. Louise Brown has given a beautiful photograph of 
the Wellborn and Wetterhorn, and also a photograph from 
an original crayon sketch. 

Mr. Ernest Pratt has presented a fine representation of the 
Natural Bridge of Virginia. 

Miss S. M. Barstow of Brookline has contributed an origi- 
nal oil painting of Chocorua, which is effective in its afterglow. 

The undersigned has given one of his original etchings of 
Mt. Moosalamoo of the Green Mountain range. 

Two vases were given by Miss Lilla Morse for the mantel, 
and some bric-a-brac by Mrs. McKaye and others, to help 
make our pleasant Glub-room more attractive. 

The art of photography has steadily advanced during the 
past ten years, and we may hope for some wonderful results in 
the not far distant future, when, if we cannot come to the 
mountains, the mountains may come to us. 

Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1886. 


By L Y. Chubbuck. 

It may be not only in order, but of sufficient interest, for 
the Department of Improvements to recapitulate the work ac- 
complished in the first ten years of the Club's existence. 


In 1876 considerable energy was displayed, by elaborating 
methods, by laying extensive plans, and by starting in from 
various points and making a beginning of this important work. 
The result of the year was, first, the Mt. Adams path, an 
extension of the one built in 1875 by Mr. Charles E. Lowe ; 
second, the improvement of the Mount Adams House path and 
outlook on Ball (or Boy) Mountain, the western end of the 
west spur of the Randolph range ; third, the King's Ravine 
path, a branch from the Mt. Adams path. What was thus 
well begun has been actively continued. 

At the end of the Report will be found a list of the paths, 
arranged in the order of their construction, which will be 
useful to members, and a guide for future councillors. We 
have in this list a total of twenty-seven paths finished and in 
use, making in the aggregate about one hundred and twenty- 
five miles, — representing a large amount of work, which 
would have required at least from twelve to fifteen hundred 
dollars to accomplish by paid labor. As it is, the actual cash 
expenditure has been small, the work having been mostly a 
labor of love. Generous aid has been given by various mem- 
bers, and money has been contributed by friends in sympathy 
with our work. 

We have four camps: one on Mt. Adams, one in Tucker- 
man's Ravine, one in Carter Notch, and the last and most 
substantial one, on the Carter-Moriah path. 

Prom the reports we find that record-bottles have been 
placed on twenty-five mountains ; but as there have been evi- 
dently numerous omissions to report, we do not give the list. 
Accounts of this work will be found in the various numbers of 

In the season of 1885 an order was sent to Mr. Charles E. 
Lowe to have the Mt. Adams Camp put in good condition, and 
I have lately received a communication from Mr. Hubbard 
Hunt, stating that he received the order from Mr. Lowe and 
executed the work, spending three days' labor on the camp. 
Mr. Hunt has also voluntarily opened the three mile path from 
his house to the Castles, and the one and three quarter mile 
branch from his house to Lowe's path, and kept the former in 
good condition. 


Mr. W. G. Nowell spent the Bummer of 1886 as usual 
among the mountains, and put in his customary work, spend- 
ing a week's time and twenty dollars as his contribution to the 
Club. The following is from his report : — 

^^ 1. The A. M. C. Camp on Mi. Adams was rebarked on the 
top and at one end. Scores of visitors consequently had a much 
drier camp to enjo3% after the middle of July, as is attested in the 
record cylinder. 

^'2. We prepared a number of sign-boards for use above 
timber-line on Mt. Adams, and for the paths on Ball Mt. and on 
the Carter-Moriah range. Twelve of these we put up between 
Mt. Moriah and the north summit of Carter Dome. We hope to 
be able to place fifty or sixty more. 

^'3. Messrs. Hubbard and Arland Hunt and the writer spent 
five daj's on Carter-Moriah range, the Hunts remaining three days 
more. We put a supporting post under the front edge of the long 
roof of Imp Camp. Otherwise we found the camp in excellent 
condition, and we left it as luxuriously comfortable as when built. 
Comparatively little fuel is needed at night, and that, we trust, 
visitors will procure as far from the camp as is convenient, in order 
that we ma}' preserve the beauty of the grove around it, the supply 
of water, and the smokeless qualities of the camp itself. We cut 
a branch path from the camp, six hundred metres to the bold clifiTs 
on Imp Mountain. Between the camp and Carter Dome we made 
man}' improvements, clearing, widening, and marking the path more 
distinctly. There is now but one obscure spot : it is on the last 
knoll going down from Middle Carter towards South Carter, where 
one is tempted to go up on a rock}- lookout instead of passing down 
to the eastward of the projection. Two of our sign-boards left on 
a log over night in the north Notch (north of the north summit of 
Carter Dome) were hcavilj' gnawed by a hungrj- bear. A bruin 
also had evidentlj^ been near Imp Camp, and had stripped all the 
berries from the bushes between there and North Carter. 

" 4. We removed heavy windfalls from the path between Carter 
Notch and the Glen House, — work equivalent to five daj's' hard labor 
for two men. Mr. Milliken of the Glen House generously contrib- 
uted towards the expense, and also employed Mr. Hunt and his son 
to open the path from the rear of the Glen House to the excellent 
view point on Wildcat Mountain. 

*' The tripod observator}^ erected on Carter Dome in 1883 stands 
as firm as ever. Davis's closed camp at the Ponds is in good 


condition. The path from Gorham to the top of Mt. Moriah sadly 
needs clearing of undei*growth and of rubbish lefb by lumbering 

Mr. Charles G. Saunders, who walked over the Carter 
Notch path in September, reports it in excellent condition, 
and considers this a very easy route between Jackson and the 
Glen House- 
In the days when the saddle furnished the only means of 
conveyance to the summit of Mt. Washington, one of the 
Fabyan paths was by way. of Mt. Pleasant. For a great 
many years this path was used very little, if any, particularly 
since the railroad has been built. Our President for 1886 
thought it desirable that this old route should be reopened as 
a foot-path, because climbing up the railroad track is never to 
be recommended, while from Fabyan's to the summit by way 
of Crawford's and the bridle-path is a long way around. As 
our July field meeting was to be on Mt. Washington, the Coun- 
cil put the matter into the hands of Messrs. Edmands and 
Lawrence, who sought out the old path and arranged to have 
it cleared in June, in time for use in connection with the 
field meeting on " The Summit." 

Mr. Gardner M. Jones, who attended the meeting, and went 
not only up but down the reopened path, kindly sends the 
following statement : — 

'^The Mt. Pleasant path leaves the railroad near the southeast- 
em end of the long straight stretch between Upper Ammonoosuo 
Falls and Twin River Farm, about half-way from Fabyan's to 
the Base station. At first it follows an old logging-road, crossing 
the brook by a log bridge. The most doubtful place is where the 
newly cut path leaves this logging-road to intercept the old path. 
It then follows up the western spur of Pleasant to the belt of scrub, 
when it bends to the south and intercepts the old Crawford path at 
a point west of the summit. It is about three miles long to this 
junction, is well blazed and cut, and is easy to follow. It is quite 
steep at the last, before coming out of the woods. Elsewhere it 
is a moderate, steady rise. After reaching the Junction one can 
either go over the summit of Pleasant or skirt its southern side. 
Of those attending the Mt. Washington field meeting, eight gentle- 
men ascended, and one gentleman and four ladies descended. The 


path leads throagh delightAil woods, and when it becomes known, 
is bound to be more popular than the old path up Clinton. Three 
or four signs are needed, and I hope they will be placed before 
next season." 

Mr. E. B. Cook sends a communication as follows : — 

*^I had hoped to report to you sooner the new paths that had 
their origin at Randolph last season, but many preventives have 
not conduced to cure delay. 

** (1) The wood-choppers having sadly devastated the path from 
Randolph Hill, along the side of Crescent Mountain to the Ice 
Gulch, it became necessary to locate a new route. The new path 
was made last spring, and leads fh>m Randolph Hill (bj* the side 
of Mr. Leighton's bam) to Fcboamauk Fall, which is about a 
quarter of a mile below the lower end of the gulch. A little 
before reaching the stream a wood-road is crossed which goes up 
to the head of the Ice Gulch, — a sign-board marking the departure. 
(2) An excellent path, about a mile in length, was made, branching 
from the Durand Ridge (Mt. Adams) path, and tapping Lowe*s 
King's Ravine path a third of a mile below the bowlders. (3) A 
path was bushed out from the highest ground of the dip of Carter 
Notch, to the top of Wildcat Mountain, and extending to a cliff 
which overlooks the lakes in the Notch." 

Dr. Parker, our Councillor of Exploration, has been doing 
some good work for the Department of Improvements, spend- 
ing considerable time and labor in a region between the North- 
em Kearsarge and Hurricane Mountain, which for the sake of 
a name he calls Chatham Notch. He reports as follows : — 

'^ There are numerous logging-roads, both on the Chatham and 
Conway sides, that confuse mountaineers so that those not familiar 
with them often find themselves in South Chatham instead of North 
Conway, some six miles off. For many 3'ears there has been a good 
deal of talk (ending in the same) of a carriage-road through, to 
connect North Conway with Chatham and other towns by a shorter 
route. In August last, after repeated exploring expeditions, Mr. 
W. Eliot Fette and the writer started by opening a foot-path con- 
necting the logging-roads on either side of the mountains ; but so 
many people seemed interested that it was decided to make a 
bridle-path of it. It was opened as such, August 23, by a lady 


(a member of the Club) going through on horseback from North 
Conway. The road starts at Mclntire's boarding-house in Upper 
Kearsai^e Village and comes out in Chatham at Mr. Holmes 
Weaks' farmhouse. The distance is about four miles; but it 
has only been measured with an odometer, which, owing to 
the very uneven state of the wheel-track, is unreliable. Looking 
back just before entering the woods, there is a very prett}^ view 
of Moat Mountain and the valley, and shortly after we get still 
another view, through a vista in the same direction, more lovely 
than before. Emerging from the woods on the northern slope of 
Hurricane Mountain, a new view opens to us. Here is a chalet 
from which we see Pleasant Mountain and numerous hills and lakes 
in Maine. 

" On the day of the public opening, September 2, a party of 
fourteen ladies and gentlemen went through, several walking while 
others went on horaeback and some in carriages. The road can 
hardly be recommended as desurable for fast driving, however. 
The cost' was $45.00, which was contributed by interested persons, 
mostly Appalachians." 

The members who attended the field meeting at Gorham, 
N. H., in 1884, and were with the portion of the camping 
party that went out by way of Bald Mountain or *' Shelburne- 
Moriah," scrambling and crawling through the thick scrub in 
order to reach the summit of Bald, will be especially interested 
in the following, received from Mr. F. D. Allen : — 

"The ascent of Shelbume-Moriah (Bald Mountain) from the 
village of Shelbume is now easier than it appears to have been ten 
years ago. It may be commended as a moderate and extremely 
well repa3-ing day's excursion. The vallej- of Clement's Brook and 
its tributaries is filled with a network of logging-roads, many of 
which extend well up towards the top of the mountain. By these 
roads, parties from A. E. Philbrook's have frequently ascended of 
late years. Last summer pains were taken to find and to mark the 
best and shortest route. At present any one ma}' follow this route 
by observing the following directions : — 

" Leave the high-road at farm-gate a few rods east of bridge 
over Clement's Brook; follow farm-road to riofht, through open 
fields for J mile, until brook is again met, coming down from left. 
Follow up brook without crossing ; route presently enters woods, 


develops into a logging-road, and crosses brook to left bank (right 
in ascending) in about 8 minutes. Thence 20 min. to bridge, cross- 
ing to right bank ; 8 min. to a logging-camp ; 2 min. to a fork in the 
road. Take right-hand road, which descends in 2 min. to the brook, 
and crosses to left bank ; thence 5 min. to another logging-camp. 
Then, instead of continuing along the main stream, turn sharply to 
right and take a logging-road which follows the right bank (left in 
ascending) of a tributary brook which comes in here. From this 
point on, the route is indicated, at forks and doubtful places, b}' 
a double blaze, — one cut over another. The logging-road ends 
high up on the last slope. From its termination a line of spotted 
trees leads to the summit in about 20 min. The whole ascent 
occupies 3 hours or less (descent about 2 hours), and is free IVom 
all difficulty. The only thing lacking is a cutting through the belt 
of scrub which separates the eastern part of the summit fh>m the 
western. This we intend to have next year. The path formerly 
cut thix)ugh this scrub by Mr. Cook we have never been able to 

The season's work is very gratifying, but still your Coun- 
cillor feels sadly the want of helping hands. What has been 
done is thankfully received and highly appreciated, but the 
day has gone by when one person can do justice to the Club 
and the Department of Improvements, by wielding the axe or 
digging out trip-roots. The Councillor's duties should be to 
direct ; and then, even if we employ only one good sturdy 
woodsman, our paths and camps, both new and old, can be 
built and kept in a creditable manner. 

List op Paths Opened by the Club. 

1876. 1. To Mt. Adams (F 3.) — - from Randolph. 

2. Ball (Boy) Mountain (D 16.1) — path and outlook improved. 

3. Through King's Ravine, Mt. Adams. 

1877. 4. Through Carter Notch — from Jackson to The Glen. 

5. To and along crest of Moat Mountains (01.) — from Diana's 

1878. 6. To Mt Willey (K 4.) — from P. and O. B. R. track. 

7. To Middle Mt. (P 2.3) —in the Green Hills of Conway. 

1879. 8. To summit of Carter Dome (G 6. 1) — from Carter Notch. 

9. *• American Institute of Instruction Path," — from LiTermore 

to Waterville. 
10. To Mt. Carrigan (K 9.)— a branch from the latter. 


11. Over Mt. Barilett (P 1.2) — from Intervale to Kearsarge, 


12. Through Tuckerman's Ravine — from Crystal Cascade. 

13; To summit of Sandwich Dome (Q 8.) or Black Mountain — 

from Waterville. 
14. To Mt. Teoumseh (N 8.1) — from path to Mt. Osceola. 

1880. 15. Thornton- Warren Path — to Mt. Moosilauke. 

1881. 16. To Bridal Veil Falls— on Mt. Kinsman. 

1882. 17. Durand Ridge Path — from Ravine House to Mts. Madison 

and Adams. 

1883. 18. To and along crest of Twin Mountain Range (J 2. and 8.) — 

from Twin Mountain House. 
10 and 20. Two paths in vicinity of Randolph, tapping the Ravine 

21. From Carter Notch to summit of Carter Dome. (See Path 8.) 

1884. 22. To summit of Humphrey's Ledge (O 2.2). 

23 and 24. Two Paths — spurs to those of Adams and Madison. 

25. From Randolph Hill to the Ice Gulch. 

26. Along crest of Carter-Moriah Range — portion from Carter 

Dome (G 6.) to northern summit of Mt. Carter (G 5.). 

1885. 27. Carter-Moriah Crest Path — continued to Mt. Moriah (G 3.). 

Proceedings of the Club. 

January 12, 1887. — Eightieth Corporate (Annual) Meeting. 
President Edmands in the chair. 

Seventy persons were present. The records of the meetings December 
8 and 16 were read and approved. The candidates for corporate mem- 
bership presented at the last regular meeting, fifteen in number, were 

Verplanck Colvin, Superintendent of the Adirondack State Survey, was 
elected a Corresponding Member. The recommendation of the Council 
that the name of J. A. L. Whittier be dropped from the roll of members 
was read. 

An announcement was made of the formation of a Snow-shoe Section, 
and the approval of its By-laws by the Council. An invitation was 
extended to all Club members to join. 

It was voted that the Standing Rules of one Council be the rules of 
the succeeding Council until acted upon by the latter. 

An amendment to the By-laws increasing the admission fee from three 
to five dollars was discussed, — remarks in favor of the amendment being 



made by Colonel T. W. Iligginson, Professor C. £. Fay, and others. 
The amendment was passed withoat any negative votes. 

The amendment making the President and Vice-President eligible for 
three consecutive years instead of for a single year, and the further 
amendment that the wording of the original be so changed as to remove 
all limit as to time, were taken ap and discussed. The second amend- 
ment was withdrawn by the RcK^ording Secretary, who offered it at 
the December meeting. It was subseqaently again offered by Professor 
C. E. Fay, but not seconded. Professor Fay argued in favor of the 
lengthening the limit, and Professor Wm. II. Kiles, Colonel T. W. 
Higginson, and others argued against any change. The amendment was 
voted down by a decided majority. 

An amendment was passed authorizing the Council to delegate the 
power to call meetings. 

It was then voted that the report of the Committee on Nominations 
be received. Colonel Higginson, chairman of the committee, reported 
the following list, explaining that the office of Corresponding Secretary, 
through a misunderstanding, had not been filled: President, Professor 
Alpheus Hyatt, Cambridge; Vice-President, Hon. Robert C. Pitman, 
Newton ; Recording Secretary, Rosewell B. Lawrence, Medf ord ; Treas- 
urer, Gardner M. Jones, Boston; Councillors, Natural History, George 
Dimmock, Cambridge; Topography, Professor A. £. Burton, Boston; 
Art, Charles W. Sanderson, Boston; Exploration, Frank O. Carpenter, 
Boston; Improvements, Isaac Y. Chubbuck, Roxbury; Trustee for three 
years, Professor William H. Niles, Cambridge ; Trustee for two years, Hon. 
Augustus E. Scott, Lexington; Trustee for one year, Mr. Charles W. 
Kennard, Boston. The report was accepted, and subsequently the duty 
of nominating a Corresponding Secretary was recommitted to the late 
Committee on Nomination. 

A motion was made and withdrawn that the Recording Secretary be 
authorized by unanimous consent to cast the ballot for the Club. 

A ballot was taken, and the candidates nominated by the committee 
were elected. The Annual Reports of the Corresponding and Recording 
Secretaries and Treasurer were presented by those officers, and the report 
of the Auditing Committee was read. 

February 9. — Eighty-First Corporate Meeting.. 
President Hyatt in the chair. 

Sixty-six persons were present. Mr. Frank O. Carpenter was elected 
Recording Secretary pro tern. 

The recommendation of the Council that the name of J. A. L. Whittier 
be dropped from the roll of members was unanimously adopted, and the 
name was dropped. 

An amendment of the By-laws increasing the admission fee from three 
to five dollars, passed unanimously at the last meeting, came up for final 


action. Remarks in favor were made by Colonel T. W. Higginson, 
Professor C. £. Fay, Hon. Robert C. Pitman, and against by Mr. A. £. 
Scott. The amendment was passed almost unanimously. 

The amendment authorizing the Council to delegate the power to call 
meetings was passed unanimously for the second and last time. 

The report of the Nominating Committee, recommending Mr. Samuel 
Thurber as candidate for Corresponding Secretary, was accepted. A 
ballot was then taken, and Mr. Samuel Thurber was elected. 

Professor W. O. Crosby presented a paper entitled •' Elevated Potholes 
near Shelbume Falls." 

A short description of the new path to Baldcap by Mr. Edwin T. 
Home was read by Mr. F. O. Carpenter. 

A letter from Mr. F. H. Chapin, describing his ascent of Pike's Peak, 
was read by Mr. F. W. Freeborn. Remarks were made by Mr. A. E. 
Scott upon Pike's Peak, which he had recently ascended. 

March 1, 1887 (Evening). — Special Meeting. 
President Hyatt in the chair. 

One hundred and sixty persons were present The President called 
the meeting to order, and after a few remarks upon the explorers of the 
Canon of the Colorado introduced the speaker of the evening, Mr. C. D. 
Walcott, Assistant United States Geological Surrey, who gave a very 
valuable and interesting paper entitled ** A Trip to the Grand Caiion of 
the Colorado." The paper was illustrated by the stereopticou, and some 
beautiful views of scenery in and about the caiion were shown. The 
speaker gave much valuable information concerning the caiion, having 
spent one winter in carefully exploring its depths. 

A vote of thanks to Mr. Walcott for his paper was proposed by the 
President and unanimously passed by the Club. 

March 9, 1887. — Eighty-second Corporate Meeting. 
President Hyatt in the chair. 

Sixty persons were present. Mr. Frank O. Carpenter was elected 
Recording Secretary pro tern. The candidates for membership presented 
at the last regular meeting, five in number, were elected. Nine nomina- 
tions were presented. 

Mr. W. M. Davis gave a short paper entitled '* Results of Meteoro- 
logical Observations at Appalachian Mountain Club Stations in the White 
Mountains during the Winter of 1886-87." The results show a wind in 
the White Mountains resembling the Foehn wind in Europe. 

Mr F. H. Chapin gave an account of his ascent of Mt. Blanc, and 
showed a number of valuable photographs of Swiss scenery and of the 
Adirondacks, and also his Alpine ice-axe. 


Professor £. C. Pickering made some remarks on the Boyden Astro- 
nomical Fund. Remarks were made by the Coondllor of Exploration on 
his department^ and a proposed meeting. 

April 13, 1887. — Eighty-third Corporate Meeting. 
President Hyatt in the chair. 

Sixty-eight persons were present. Mr. F. O. Carpenter was elected 
Recording Secretary pro tern. Twelve nominations for membership were 

Mr. Henry Brooks described ** A new Method of Making Topographical 
Models," suggested by the manner in which the Japanese make Cloisonne 
vases, by strips of sheet brass. 

Professor Edward S. Morse, of Salem, then gave an interesting account 
of his *' Rambles in Java." President Hyatt made a few remarks upon 
Professor Morse's paper. 

April 28, 1887 (Evening). — Special Meeting. 
President Hyatt in the chair. 

The Recording Secretary called the meeting to order. The President 
arrivedlater and assumed the chair. About one hundred persons were 

Mr. Edward S. Philbrick gave an account of a *' Journey to Monnt 
Sinai and the City of Petra," illustrated by the stereopticon. Fine views 
of Sinai and its mountainous region were shown. The location of the 
ancient city was pointed out, its characteristics described, and views shown 
of its cafions, amphitheatre caves, and the wonderful carving upon its 
rocky cliffs. 

Professor J. B. Greenough then gave a short historical sketch of the 
city, quoting frequently the various ancient authors who have alluded to 
it, and attributing its prosperity to the eastern trade. 

May 11, 1887. — Eighty-fourth Corporate Meeting. 
Professor W. M. Davis was elected Chairman pro tern. 

Sixty persons were present. The candidates for membership at the 
March and April meetings, nine and twelve in number respectively, were 
elected. Twenty-two nominations were presented. 

A short paper on "Raymond's Ledge, Weare, N. H.," was presented 
by Rev. E. F. Merriam. The hill, unlike other elevations in the region, 
has a precipice on its northern side. The upper part is generally perpen- 
dicular, while at the base is an immense mass of bowlders which the 
author thought was due to glacial action. 


A communicatioii on '* Landscape and its Interpretation '* was presented 
by Professor J. D. Whitney. The speaker briefly reviewed the history of 
mountain climbing, and by references to ancient authors and to the de- 
Telopment of landscape painting showed that the appreciation of moun- 
tains was modem. He thought that the principal object of Alpine and 
Appalachian Mountain Clubs was to make it easy to enjoy Nature. He 
then proceeded to show how our knowledge of Nature, and thus our 
ability to appreciate it, are increased by studying the variety in form 
which mountains present. The various forms produced by erosive agencies 
and volcanic action were treated at length and illustrated by drawings. 
Reference was made to the variation in scenery due to color, light and 
shade, vegetation, glaciers, and to the different forms in which water 
appears, — lakes, fails, and geysers. 

May 20, 1887 (Evening). — Special Meeting. 
Vice-President Pitman in the chair. 

Mr. J. Ritchie, Jr., presented a paper on ** Mount Grace," illustrated 
by stereopticon. He gave a full description of the mountain, and some 
valuable information concerning the western part of Massachusetts, and 
especially the Connecticut Valley. 

Mr. Rosewell B. Lawrence presented a paper on *' Mount Ktaadn " illus- 
trated by forty lantern views, the majority of which were prepared from 
n^atives by Miss Rose Hollingsworth. Several fine views showed the 
summits and the narrows, and one picture gave an excellent idea of the 
grandeur and beauty of the basin. 

After the meeting Blanchard*8 combined knapsack tent was exhibited. 

June 8, 1887. — Eighty-fifth Corporate Meeting. 
Professor William H. Niles was elected Chairman pro tern. 

Fifty persons were present. The candidates for membership nominated 
May 11, twenty-two in number, were elected. Four nominations were 

The speaker of the afternoon, Rev. Francis Tiffany, was happily intro- 
duced by Professor Niles, who alluded to his good fortune in meeting Mr. 
Tiffany in Heidelberg in 1872, and visiting the castle and Konigstuhle 
imder his guidance. The subject of the lecture was '* Soglio, an Italian 
Swiss Mountain Hamlet. " The speaker gave a careful and interesting de- 
scription of the old mansion in which he sojourned, and showed how the 
situation of the hamlet had influenced the character of the people. Soglio 
has three hundred and fifty inhabitants, and is situated 3,500 feet above 
the sea. The people are Protestants, and their language is Italian. No 
taxes oppress them, for the public revenues from the grass lands pay all 


the expenses, includiDg the pastor's salary. Their winter life in a compact 
village, and their summer life changing from lower to higher pastures, are 
conducive to health of body and health of soul. The lecture was well 
supplemented by remarks by Professor Niles on the patriotism and other 
valuable characteristics of the Swiss, as associated with the physical 
features of the mountains. 

Officers for 1887. 

Alphbus Hyatt, Natural History Sodely, Boston. 

Robert C. Pitman, Newton. 

Recording Secretary, 
RosEWELL B. Lawrence, 23 Court Street, Boston. 

Corresponding Secretary. 
Samuel Thurber, 13 Westminster Avenue, Rozbury. 

Gardner M. Jones, 9 Park Street, Room 17, Boston. 

Natural History, George Dimmock, Cambridge. 
Topography, Alfred £. Burton, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 

Art, Charles W. Sanderson, 20 Beacon Street, Boston. 
Exploration, Frank O. Carpenter, 43 Concord Square, Boston. 
Improvements, Isaac Y. Chubbuck, 971 Tremont Street, Roxbury. 

APPALA^CH LA. , ^/-O X . 
















Vol. V. BOSTON, JUNE, 1888. No. 2. 

A Visit to Shirane San. 

Bt Percival Lowell. 

. BMdllBzehl4»1888. 

Geologically speaking, Japan is an artistic after-thought 
on Nature's part, a pretty postscript to the Chinese chapters 
of her autobiography. Within relatively recent times has 
beei^ upheaved the long line of volcanoes of which its islands 
consist, to hang like a tasselled fringe off the previously stra- 
tified shore of the Asiatic continent. The reason of its being 
is volcanic, and its being volcanic is reason for its present 
almost tropically luxuriant life ; for to its volcanoes it owes 
not simply the exceeding picturesqueness of its scenery, but 
the surprising fertility of its soil. Veritable fountains of verd- 
ure, these burning mountains — as the Japanese call them — 
have for centuries been laying the country under a debt of 
mineral matter of incalculable value to plant-life. To the 
various phosphates which they have scattered broadcast over 
its surface, the land owes a vegetation which for richness is 
almost unique. Next to solar warmth, volcanic fire has made 
Japan what it is. 

Not a bad bird's-eye view of its general topography may be 
got from a glimpse of the moon through a good-sized operar 
glass. The great lunar craters with their huge amphitheatri- 
cal walls, the innumerable lesser cones sprinkled haphazard 
in and about the larger, and the jagged edges of wellnigh per- 


pendicular peaks whose friable rocks have disintegrated into 
the most fantastic forms, offer a picture not un-Japanese in 
type. If, to complete it, the observer will let his imagination 
clothe the now naked surface of our satellite with a garment 
of vegetation as much in character as his fancy can fashion, 
he will behold with the telescopic eye a very fair presentment 
of that most peculiar portion of the other side of our globe. 
This symbolic journey is both expeditious and inexpensive. 
It takes even a novice but a few seconds to adjust his sight, — 
a suitable saving on the score of time over a voyage to Japan, 
perfect vision of which necessitates three tedious weeks of 
preliminary sea. 

Such a land can easily be conceived to be a very paradise 
for pedestrians. Nor are the inhabitants unappreciative of 
their opportunities. Travel, particularly on foot, gives to the 
country roads an ant-like activity, all the more attractive for 
not being entirely a matter of business. The cause of it, in- 
deed, is as much religious as profane. A happy combination 
of the two motives characterizes the people. Every one is 
either actually or prospectively a pilgrim-tourist. 

But numerous as the devotees are, there is abundant room 
for their peregrinations. Though Japan has been well likened 
to England for the minuteness of its cultivation, it must 
never be forgotten that such comparison refers, after all, to but 
a tithe of its territory. All the ground that can be utilized, 
besides much that we should think quite too lofty to be so 
demesned, has already been appropriated by man. Indeed, 
the energetic way in which the paddy-fields scale the hillsides 
is a standing marvel in terraced irrigation. Brooks, long 
before tliey are big enough to labor, are snatched — still 
babes — from their beds, and made to do duty in tumbling 
down the successive levels. Industrious, however, as the 
Japanese are, most of their land remains unoccupied. Too 
mountainous to be susceptible of cultivation, nine tenths of it 
is still as wild as it was before man made its acquaintance. 
But though an unbroken forest, it is by no means an untrodden 
one, the Japanese admiration of Nature being as unlimited as 
Nature herself. Mountains especially are honored; while 
volcanoes, more because of their imposing height than for 


their other attributes, are particularly reverenced. Fuji, of 
course, is the great mountain-Mecca; but in spite of the 
crowds of pilgrims that annually ribbon its cone, it by no 
means suffices as a yent for all the native enthusiasm on the 
subject Most mountains are shrined, and every summit is 
respectfully spoken of as ^^the honorable peak." 

If the Japanese rival the peripatetic Englishman in 
their willingness to walk, they resemble him also in their 
reckless inclination to climb. They instance the same blind 
instinct which urges us Anglo-Saxons to the top of anything 
lofty, be it Mont Blanc or Bunker Hill Monument. We in- 
variably regret our precipitancy half-way up, wish we had 
never started, and do the second half simply because we have 
done the first, — as if a half-folly were not always preferable to 
a whole one! The Japanese are equally deluded, the only 
difference being that with them the bare instinct has seen fit 
to clothe itself in the garb of religion. They climb, not for 
the sake of overcoming the obstacle, but for the subtiler 
purpose of self-elevation. Indeed, the Japanese take to the 
mountains to escape those ills — spiritual or otherwise — that 
flesh is heir to. They seek the summits for the salvation of 
their souls, and they sojourn on the sides for the healing of 
their bodies. A Japanese ascent is invariably a pilgrimage. 
To scale a peak is, in popular belief, but one step removed 
from scaling heaven. 

But with the pilgrimage side of Japanese travel our journey 
has but little to do ; for though Shirane San was, and still is, 
sacred, it has never been particularly honored, — which is 
perhaps the reason that at last it boiled over in its wrath, 
demolished the temple on its top, and irreverently swept the 
fragments down hill into a ravine. The second incentive to 
native journeyings is the one more nearly parallel to our own. 
Though directly connected with the first, it is eminently 
earthly. The volcanoes, besides being stimulating to the 
spirit, are also made use of for medicinal purposes. They 
are vast chemical retorts, and, being by their very nature 
cracked, their sides give exit to innumerable mineral springs, 
known euphemistically as "great" and "little hells." The 
evil sound of their name does not in the least detract from 


their popularity. They constitute the watering-places of 
Japan, and are thronged every summer by multitudes of in- 
valids in melancholy search of their lost health. The springs 
well up profusely, and serve as Monte Carlos to the innkeepers 
by curing just enough patients to lure hundreds of others to 
expend their money in vain. Yet the demand for their waters 
continues to be equalled only by the supply. 

Impelled, no doubt, by an appropriate mixture of motives, 
a certain professor in the University of Tokio and 1 set out, in 
July, 1883, on a journey into the interior. Among other 
objects which we held out to ourselves was the ascent of a 
volcano in Koshiu called Shirane San, or White Peak. Now, 
Shirane San on ordinary occasions is not a particularly dis- 
tinguished eminence. In fact, its very name has the misfor- 
tune to possess the self-effacing generality of Smith. To be 
known as Shirane San is, for a mountain, almost equivalent 
to not being known at all. There are so many Shirane Sans 
that for anything like exact definition the name of the prov- 
ince must be added to each. They all agree, however, in one 
point, — not one of them makes the faintest attempt to justify 
its cognomen, for not a single specimen bears the least resem* 
blance to a white peak. The highest of them is not high 
enough for perpetual snow, nor are the rocks of which they 
are composed notably whiter than the surrounding country. 
The title, therefore, would seem to convey neither name nor 
local habitation. 

Nor was this particular Shirane San, further designated as 
the Kusatsu Shirane San, pre-eminent among its kind, — 
owing, possibly, to its having been too long quiescent. Its 
reputation had suffered from the dulling effect of monotonous 
inactivity. Not big enough to inspire admiration simply by 
its size, it had done nothing of late years to compel it. But 
at last its day had come. An event had recently happened in 
its career which had lifted it into temporary notoriety, — it 
had just had an eruption. After an unknown period of re- 
pose, the mountain had broken out, in the summer of 1882, 
into an activity which made up in unexpectedness what it 
lacked in extent ; and though its first violence subsided with 
the autumn, yet, if report spoke true, it was still far from 


quiet. Inasmuch as this report, unlike most rumors, had 
started with the mountain itself, we deemed it credible enough 
to warrant investigation. Besides, although not a momentous 
affair, it was the very latest thing in eruptions ; and even in 
Japan an eruption of the third or fourth order of merit is not 
an every-day occurrence. It is now nearly two hundred years 
since Fuji poured torrents of seething lava down its snow- 
draped sides, and scattered scorisd over the surrounding prov- 
inces until they lay feet-deep in ash. Ontake, Japan's next 
highest and most sacred peak, has not been active within the 
memory of man. The youngest of the eight craters which 
crown its summit has now grown gray with disintegrating 
years. Its successive cone-rings — mute emblems, like the 
tree's, of the lapse of time — speak to Science alone of fires 
which have long since become extinct. Even Asama Yama, 
sullenly puffing out white whiffs of cloud, confirmed old 
smoker that he is, contents himself with grumbling, and for 
a century now has suffered his wrath to smoulder in him. 
Shirane San's little petulant outbreak, therefore, confined as 
it was to the throwing of mud at its neighbors, was not 
without its importance. 

We left Tokio at noon on a beautiful midsummer's day. 
Although strictly a pedestrian trip, we preferred to traverse 
the great Musashi plain, through which for the first seventy 
miles our road ran, in jinrikishaj — large baby-carriages, 
with a man where we should expect a horse. If I seem to 
speak slightingly of these estimable vehicles, the fault must 
be laid to our own imperfect vocabulary. More delightful 
means of conveyance than these reminiscences of our infan- 
tile years it would be difficult to imagine. The only draw- 
back to them lay in the fact that every five miles the coolies 
insisted upon stopping for rest and refreshment. I cannot 
find it in my heart, however, to grudge them these respites, 
especially in retrospect, when I reflect how limited are their 
opportunities. So wearing is the trade, that jinrikisha-men 
are said not to live more than five years. It is startling to 
think that one's fellow-travellers, if I may so describe them, 
have already ceased to be. 

We were both of us duly armed with passports, without 


which no foreigner, at the certain risk of being ignominiooaly 
tamed back, dare venture beyond the treaty limits, — small 
tracts of coontrj immediately surrounding the treaty ports. 
These documents stated, by a stretch of strict veracity politely 
winked at by the Japanese Government, that we were trav- 
elling for our health, or, if we preferred the alternative, for 
purposes of scientific investigation. As no one ever asked 
after the state of the first, or required the results of the 
second, the prevarication appeared supererogatory. But in 
spite of the want of attention it received, the fiction was 
none the less needed, for only so brazen an untruth can open 
the interior to the too healthy unscientific stranger. These 
trusty instruments of protection we at once turned over to 
the charge of our ^' boy," to exhibit as occasion might re- 
quire, while we proceeded instantly to forget that we owned 

Of our rosary of travel I shall content myself, as memory 
itself does, with telling a few of the beads. I can conscien- 
tiously affirm, however, that the beads bear a most orthodox 
stamp. They were eminently in keeping with our credentials. 
If we were to be judged by our deeds, not our motives, our 
itinerary furnished the most conclusive of circumstantial evi- 
dence in our favor ; for the route we had sketched out began 
by taking us to two of Japan's most celebrated health-resorts, 
^— Ikao and Eusatsu. 

Suffice it then to say that after contemplating for two days 
a patchwork of fields stitched by hedgerows and dikes, 
and hemmed by the turnpike, we grew rather tired of this 
agricultural crazy-quilting. Even the towns, that stretched 
like seams in one straight line along the highway till they 
almost met, eventually became monotonous, and we were not 
sorry to find ourselves, on the third morning, slowly mount- 
ing the long slope that bounds the farther end of the plain. 
Step by step as we toiled up, the grassy, flower-covered 
meadows fell away in one long sweep that became every 
moment grander as it curved out into the seemingly illimi- 
table distance. Of the plain itself no end was visible ; only 
the mountain-ranges on its sides stood out in two long lines 
of blue perspective, vanishing at last in faint patches of color 


hardly deeper than the sky itself. We seemed to be standiug 
upon the stairway of some vast prehistoric structure over- 
looking rows of colossi that sentinelled the approach. It 
gave us much pleasure, at the same time, to think that we 
were leaving behind our friends the mosquitoes, who had 
welcomed us so warmly where we had stopped the last few 
nights, and who are constitutionally averse to climbing above 
two thousand feet. In spite of man's craving for the infinite, 
he cannot but rejoice at times that some things have their 

After piously taking refuge in a wayside temple from a 
passing storm, we continued on our way, much edified by 
learning that the spot was one of the thirty-three sacred 
places of eastern Japan. I should never have suspected so 
much from the appearance of the building. However, iu 
consequence of our devotions, or for some more occult reason, 
the sky cleared^ and the sun came glinting through the haze 
like a cloud of golden dust, when the woodland path we had 
been following suddenly developed into a flight of irregular 
stone steps, between no less irregular lines of houses, and we 
were conscious of walking in the main street of a little alpine 
village. The resemblance to Switzerland was indeed cousinly. 
There stood the familiar wooden ch&Iets, with the same big 
stones laid in long rows on the roof to keep tliose light- 
headed structures from blowing away. Between them wound 
in tortuous simplicity the same social thoroughfare, used as 
much for purposes of gossip as travel, while spread out in 
front for the temptation of the simple tourist lay exposed for 
sale the same quaint wood-carvings which the cantons shape 
so prettily, — identically deceptive, save that in place of the 
superscription " Rosenlaui " or " Grindelwald," one read in 
ideographs the name ^^ Ikao." An instructive comment this 
on the effect of environment! 

Ikao is one of the most famous watering-places of Japan. 
Perched twenty-seven hundred feet above the sea, upon the 
flank of the great volcanic mass known as tlie Haruna Moun- 
tains, it is high enough, however hot it be by day, to enjoy 
oool nights free from mosquitoes. These advantages com- 
mend it to pleasure-seekers. Its medicinal springs prescribe 


it to invalids. This professional quota of the population 
belongs to a comparatively unobjectionable class. I pay 
them such passing tribute of praise, not because of any great 
delight I took in their company, but solely in grateful recog- 
nition that they were not so bad as they might have been. 
We were thrown later with others of a sadly different com- 
plexion. The waters themselves are proportionately mild. 
Iron is their principal constituent, — whence no doubt the 
irony of their pretended cures. They taste, of course, like 
rotten eggs, — all really efficient waters do. Beyond this pre- 
liminary investigation and the fact of their volcanic origin, 
I did not concern myself ; for the chief interest in the place 
lies, paradoxically, without it Professionals excluded, people 
frequent it for its cool air, for its views, and for the excur- 
sions in its neighborhood. Standing half-way up the slope 
from the plain to the plateau, it forms a gateway, as it were, 
to the whole Haruna group of mountains. 

This remsu'kable congeries of craters is still very striking, 
even in its present dilapidated condition, and must have pre- 
sented in prehistoric times a startling scene of volcanic ac- 
tivity. The whole of it undoubtedly was once but a single 
centre of disturbance, aud has become now a cemetery of a 
complete family of cones of all ages, sizes, and kinds. Traces 
enough remain to suggest that the Haruna plateau is some- 
thing more than an ordinary plain. Seen from below, one 
might not suspect anything out of the common; but once 
upon the wall, the scientific eye marks certain peculiarities too 
concurrent to be the result of chance. To reach this point of 
intuition one must follow undaunted the path to "Hell,*' a 
distance of a couple of miles up the side of the slope, to a spot 
where steam issues from a hole in the ground, — much after 
the manner of its exit from our own infernal underground 
heating-companies' valves. Nowadays this realistic suggestion 
of Hades is a common enough sight, but then it was so new as 
to produce a decidedly diabolic effect upon me. Skirting it re- 
spectfully, we struck up a steep rise of perhaps a thousand feet, 
and suddenly emerged upon the top of an amphitheatrical ram- 
part that stretohed away on either hand till it seemed to lose 
itself in various surrounding peaks. Below us lay a vast 


grassy plain resembling our own Western prairies, — as much, 
that is, as the finite may the infinite. It looked as if some 
one had stolen a few square miles of them and dumped them 
here. I cannot say the transplanted bleakness made me feel 
particularly at home. Perhaps the presence of a few trees in 
spots was disillusioning. As we walked across it, we became 
more and more convinced of the volcanic origin of the moun- 
tain. The long low rampart was the first suggestive feature 
as it curved out into the distance. Owing to the bead-like 
manner in which circumvallating peaks were strung along it, 
to see the whole of it from any one point was impossible. 
But it was sufiiciently defined where we could see it, to be 
divined where we could not ; while its base on the inner side 
was buttressed by a talus that furnished of itself not incon- 
clusive collateral evidence. Disintegration, however, had 
largely effaced details ; but it had been comparatively power- 
less upon general characteristics, and these remained to prove 
an antiquity sufiicient to account for the disintegration. If 
old age rendered identification difficult, the relative dimen- 
sions of the mass testified unmistakably to such necessary 
lapse of time. The size of the crater, taken in connection with 
the want of height of its wall above the surrounding country, 
showed it to belong to the very earliest plutonic eras. This 
aperture, now become the enclosed plain, was fully two miles 
across, while its elevation above sea-level was not more than 
four thousand feet. Like the young of animals, the mouth of 
the mountain was enormous for the rest of its body. But, as 
is well known, the age of a volcano is told by the comparative 
size of its mouth, — the more recent the cone, the smaller the 
crater. As if to fill any gap in the evidence which the first 
might have left, in the very centre of it rose a second cone, 
much smaller and more tapering than its predecessor. This 
younger specimen was about a thousand feet high, and sym- 
metrical enough to be cut into conic sections. The mathe- 
matical model was quite bare, vegetation apparently being 
averse to covering so perfectly shaped a figure, although such 
forbearance may have been due to the impossibility of finding 
foothold among the pile of debris which composed the slope. 
Yet the fires which had formed this subsidiary vent had long 


since becomo extinct. A second generation, like tlie first, 
stood there mummified. 

Beyond this to the west lay a placid little lake, — a sheet 
of water without which no extinct or even dormant crater 
would be complete. Except that it was level, its surface was 
scarcely more uniform than was the rest of the plain. Both 
were drearily destitute of life, in spite of a superstition which 
had peopled the lake with a dragon, to the terror of the neigh- 
borhood. In striking contrast to the inside of the crater are 
its outer slopes, which are thickly set with trees and full of 
monkeys. We saw none, of course. One never does meet, 
in the delightfully casual manner he anticipates, the strange 
beasts of which he reads so absorbedly in illustrated natural 
histories, or stares at open-mouthed in zoological gardens. 
The fact is the animals take good care not to be seen ; they 
get out of your way long before you are aware they lay in It. 
Besides, it was summer ; and it is in winter, when the leaves 
are off the trees, that these animals are hunted and shot. 

Speaking of monkeys reminds me of an important discovery 
I made one day upon my companion, — I mean upon his 
monkey-jacket. This discovery was nothing less than the 
determination of the isozoic fly-line. It did not happen, it is 
true, at this particular time ; but as it did occur in the course 
of this journey, and as I have still some lingering conscien- 
tious scruples on the score of the passport, I make haste to 
chronicle anything so scientific. 

I have heard it said by a scientist of conspicuous standing 
that there are no flies in Japan. There certainly are none in 
Tokio, nor in other places most visited by foreigners. That 
this is due to any aversion to strangers on the part of the 
insects would be gratuitous self-traduction. Their absence, 
however, is most grateful. I think it is owing to the presence 
of mosquitoes. Whether the two find it impossible to agree, 
or whether there are so many mosquitoes as to leave abso- 
lutely no room for flies, is open to doubt. Experience would 
lead me to the latter supposition. At any rate, the two are 
not found together. Tokio, as we have intimated, is pleas- 
ingly flyless. In the daytime the stranger has leisure to 
notice this fact, the mosquito being then innocently asleep. 

tPTHtAgM^*, V <L- V. -**T» VM 





Arguing from the data of the plain, certain Europeans rose 
to the somewhat hastj generalization that flies were non- 
existent throughout Japan. We ourselves were victims of 
this delightful delusion when we set out for the interior. We 
lived to be undeceived. One noon, as we were trudging in 
beatific solitude along the ridge of a mountain spur some six 
thousand feet above the sea-level, my eye chanced to fall upon 
the above-mentioned jacket, which was preceding me, when I 
suddenly became aware of what looked uncommonly like a 
common fly perched upon it. Surprised at the sight, I crept 
stealthily nearer and discovered that it was no counterfeit 
presentment, but the living thing. There sat contentedly a 
very fair specimen of the ordinary domestic fly. Having dis- 
covered one, I instantly discovered another, and still another. 
The higher we went, the more numerous they became, until 
my friend seemed to be giving gratuitous conveyance to a 
whole clan of them. I called his attention to the imposition 
practised upon him, to which he retorted in kind. Exactly 
how high the fly-zone extends, I cannot directly aflSrm, for we 
never reached its superior limit. It showed no marked signs 
of coming to an end at seven thousand feet. In very exposed 
places flies are not to be found ; but that is presumably be- 
cause they all get blown away. The elevations they frequent, 
and their indifference to civilization seem to imply in them 
social instincts of a less aggressive nature than those which 
render their cousins so objectionable. But though exclusive 
in their habitat, they appear no less given to familiarity when 

The descent from this ancient Avernus was not simply 
easy, it was delightful, — one long ramble down hill with a 
brook through the witching half-lights of the forest on a 
midsummer's afternoon. 

From the Japanese for " Plainville," the unpretentiously 
named village where we spent the night, we started the next 
morning up a valley, or rather up a succession of valleys, 
striking even for Japan, and beautiful as few valleys outside 
of Japan know how to be. As this sounds like prejudice, I 
would offer a reason in excuse. 

The volcanic origin of Japanese rocks gives them a friability 



which the artistic finger of Time has not been slow to seize 
upon. It has chiselled them o£F in one place to leave them 
standing in another in isolated perpendicular grandeur, — a 
crag embosomed in a forest of almost wanton exuberance ; 
for their easily disintegrated character makes of the chips 
the yery best of soil. The same hand has carved beds for 
the stream where it swirls and eddies and then plunges out 
of sight into some semi-cavernous recess, while the road is 
compelled, for foothold, to wander far above it in irregular 
zigzags half-way between earth and heaven. Clothe this 
scene with specimens of the flora of all three zones, and then 
spread over the whole a beautiful blue sky, across which sail 
masses of snowy-canvased clouds, and you have a faint picture 
of a valley in the heart of Japan in mid-July. 

This particular valley had that added charm of being an 
unbeaten track. It would be more than human to deny the 
peculiar attraction of being tlie first, where you are certain 
others will follow; it is the nearest approach to assisting 
at the creation which is permitted to mankind. Humble 
though our part was, we appreciated its dignity. We felt that 
we were contributing potentially to the guide-book ; not that 
we ever wrote a line for it, but we were fully conscious of 
the same importance as if we had intended to do so. For 
this route was, as yet virgin to print. In the next edition of 
that valuable volume it appeared in the appendix, and even 
came in for several highly laudatory adjectives. When we 
read the description, a year or more afterward, we glowed 
with pride as if we had been personally complimented our- 
selves, so strong is the appropriative instinct in man. 

About the middle of the day the spirit of forethought 
asserted itself, and we began to wish to know where we 
were ; so we hailed the first wayfarer we met, and asked him 
how far it was to Naganohara. I think that was the name of 
the village which, at that particular instant hovered, will-o'- 
the-wisp-like, before our mind's eye. He hummed and hawed 
a good deal, much as if he had been asked the precise distance 
to the moon, and then, with the unexpectedness of one who 
ventures a guess at a riddle, replied, " Half-way," — at least, 
such is the literal translation of what he said. What he 


meant, however, was half a ri; the word " way " being used 
in rustic parlance as equivalent to the more academic meas- 
ure. But this explanation simply relegates the uncertainty 
of the expression from the man to his ancestors ; for why 
a road should be reckoned at two and a half miles, which 
is the value of a n, I am still as much at a loss to con- 
ceive as ever. Nevertheless, the term is of the best local 
usage throughout the interior, while the frequency of the 
answer, " Half-a-way," led me to suspect that the natives, 
being really ignorant of the distance in question, simply choose 
the most likely mean. But it may be that I did the honest 
folk gross injustice in supposing them capable of an astuteness 
equal to the determination of the average probability of the 
chance. Queries about distances are for other reasons unsat- 
isfactory ; for the n, although the recognized unit, is unfortu- 
nately elastic, — a fact which you only discover experimentally. 
The state of things in the interior is even worse than in the 
rural districts with us, where a countryman sees no solecism 
in speaking of a long or a short mile, — as if the measure were 
made of india-rubber. Such a criterion is very confusing at 
first, the only practical rule being that though a ri is never 
less than a n, it may often be more. From thirty-six choj its 
normal length, it stretches out, always on the most inoppor- 
tune occasions, till it seems interminable, — none the less so 
for being quite unsuspected. On inquiry you find that you 
have fallen upon a ri of fifty cho. As there is absolutely 
nothing in the speech of the people to betray the fact, the 
deception is complete. Man is rarely grateful for the gratui- 
tous gift, even in matters of distance. The <?Ao, in terms of 
which they of course never think of expressing themselves, is 
the only measure incapable of stretching. 

From the end of the valley a steep hill, crowned with tea- 
houses, led us up to the steppe-like plateau upon which lay 
Eusatsu. This famous watering-place, even more widely 
known throughout Japan than Ikao, was our present objective 
point, as it was also to be our eventual point of departure for 
the ascent of Shirane San, at whose foot it nestled confidingly. 
As the evening closed in and we began to approach it, — or 
rather began to think we were approaching it, for it seemed to 


partake of the coyness of the morrow, — I fell to questioning 
mj companion, who had been there before, about its character. 
I knew already that it was not exactly an attractive spot, but I 
was far from realizing the full extent of its unamiability. Had 
I done so, I should certainly never have consented to visit it. 
His description, which was more than borne out by the facts, 
was such as to make my hair stand on end. It appeared 
that the waters possessed the unenviable distinction of curing 
the most loathsome diseases imaginable, — diseases, too, of a 
contagious kind ; so that in addition to the distress of wit- 
nessing the pitiable plights of one's fellows was added the 
fear of becoming incurably contaminated one's self. He enu* 
merated with the utmost unconcern several horrible maladies, 
mention of which I shall not inflict upon the reader. To give 
some faint idea of my own feelings, however, I may be par- 
doned for particularizing leprosy as among tlie most promi* 
nent. The place was simply one vast sore. I had come, it 
was true, to see an eruption ; but I expected to find it at the 
top, not at the bottom, of the mountain, and that it would be 
of a strictly impersonal nature when found. To be subjected 
to the possibility of catching it myself was more than I had 
bargained for. Such a contingency, however, seemed far from 
improbable, for the patients inhabited promiscuously — so he 
informed me — all the hotels in the place. The state of 
things struck me as altogether too communistic for comfort. 
But aversion availed nothing, for there was nowhere else to 
go. The next village lay I know not how far off, and besides 
was impossibly placed for crossing the Shibu Toge, to say 
nothing of Shirane San. As for camping out, we had not the 
means, and at that elevation the night was already decidedly 
cold. Stay at Kusatsu we must, whether I liked it or not. I 
upbraided the professor for ever having brought me to such a 
pass ; but he had the place much less in abhorrence than I, 
and expatiated eloquently on its freedom from mosquitoes, — 
as if the absence of the insects quite made up for the presence 
of the invalids. I suggested sarcastically that it took usually 
two negatives to make an agreeable affirmative; to which 
logic he turned a deaf ear. 
At this juncture, ajs if to give realistic confirmation to my 












lurid fancies, all at once we saw, through the gloom in front 
of us, clouds of steam rising, apparently out of the very ground. 
As if the effect of this apparition were not uncanny enough, the 
next thing I knew, we were passing a graveyard, — the first 
human indication of Kusatsu. It was a demoniacal kind of 
welcome. It no doubt softened the heart of my companion ; for 
he then remembered that there was a temple in the rear of the 
village which might give us refuge, being, indeed, in the habit of 
extending this hospitality to such unfortunate travellers as did 
not happen to be diseased. He recalled having lodged there 
himself on a previous visit. The information reassured me 
temporarily, but only to plunge me the deeper in despair when 
we reached the building. It had been deserted, — whether 
because the patients found the water's cure sufficient, or be- 
cause its priests had caught the prevailing infection, I cannot 
say. All I know is that we knocked for admittance in vain, 
and then began wandering about like a couple of miserable 
tramps in search of any decent habitation, however humble. 
At last we discovered a tea-house. 

Now, a tea-house is not a hotel, it is not even a restaurant ; 
it is simply a place for refreshment of the most fleeting kind. 
To propose to lodge there, would be like presuming to spend 
the night at a man's house on the strength of having been in- 
vited to afternoon tea. Yet to this act of impropriety we were 
driven by the necessities of the case. To attain our end was 
far from easy ; indeed, it was only by dramatically depicting 
our horror of sleeping elsewhere that we finally prevailed 
upon its proprietor to take us in, — which I have no doubt he 
also did financially. This Jew-Samaritan brought the water 
for our feet, and left me soaking and meditating on the 
strange similarity of customs between the far East of the 
nineteenth century and the near East of the year one, — a 
parallel more striking still three decades ago, before foreign- 
ers dazzled the national mind into adopting western ways. 
Then one could run, from feet-washing to crucifixion, through 
the whole gamut of old-time Oriental amenities. 

I was reminded of the resemblance again the next morning 
on going out circumspectly to visit the baths, where the loath- 
some invalids, in a state of nature, were washing themselves 

^"■^^TE 4ju. 

^ ^.."^^^^ ragndleas of 

n^M mil to be snfferiiig 

f^ "™* -xmoeentlT ia two or 

■^ • 'Hie of the villagB 

"*•* -^ die principal hoteh. 

. , ^ ""^^ ^^•»» become con- 

^ ._^.«£ -OMidering ia the most 

-^ -nat a a«fai pirt thia awne 
■7 '"^'^•ttcivifiz.tioii. What 

- --j^ ^ '* P** a»Br8ioiis, and 

- - r Ltt^jJ?*;:"'^ nria one's tMte 

- _ ^^' ne artH^Ie, If they were 

■;!./'' ' • ^^ -™^ — ia a delightfiiUy 

•♦^- • .. :'7„ r-I:.-^ '^'^^'"^^ -oodenoondnits 

= ;^ - ^ ...c io"^'Tiei^r:,^«^ ^ 

' "• •""•rm:tr.-nt olfeet .>f ° ^^ ""^"^ «^ «<»«» that 

"• "■" ^ ••'-'• Iforo andX.T^' ^™™"-'' destitute of 

;^' •; 7, " '^•-". Th..t.J^^f ?" -"--^ir left b. cha- 

'" ■ ; "• '"" ^'••- 'J>-m bvi^r:,^'^'^**" piled «P 

* • *' ' •'•? <»'. -.r,..,.^, ^f ,^^ ^^J "dded not . little 

. ..>.»■ I .. *" »chin« TnJW *» -V* .. ^ 









promiscuously, regardless of sex, and equally regardless of 
the kind of disease which they happened to be suffering 
from. They all bathed together quite innocently in two or 
three large tanks that occupied one side of the village 
square. Upon this square fronted all the principal hotels. 
As I gazed, my thoughts, I fear, must have become con- 
taminated by the prevailing complaint, for they took on a 
peculiar complexion. I found myself considering in the most 
matter-of-fact manner imaginable what a useful part this same 
leprosy might be made to play in our own civilization. What 
a tertium quid of a modus vivendi for one's pet aversions, and 
what a capital oubliette for the bores, — who ruin one's taste 
for humanity by wilfully cheapening the article! If they were 
only lepers, one could still meet them — in a delightfully 
distant way ! » 

The waters are led into the tanks through wooden conduits 
straight from a ^^hell," a mile farther up the hillside. The 
liquid smells strongly of its origin, and even at this distance 
from its source is hot enough to rise in clouds of steam that 
impart an intermittent effect of prudery to the bathers. An 
improvised Virgil kindly escorted me to this Inferno, — a truly 
charming spot, which to my limited experience in the matter 
seemed fully to justify its name. It was a place of loose 
bowlders, sulphur, and boiling water, grandly destitute of 
everything else. Here and there upon the bowlders were 
little cairns of smaller stones, like those usually left by chil- 
dren in their games. They had not, however, been piled up 
by children, but for them by kindly disposed visitors. They 
are offerings to an old purgatorial hag, presented in behalf of 
dead infants, that the little ones may be spared a similar task 
on the banks of the Buddhist Styx. They added not a little 
to the exceeding dreariness of the spot. The whole was the 
most vivid representation of " an aching void " of which it is 
possible to conceive. Behind it the eye followed up the slopes 
of Shirane San, above whose desolate shoulder floated a slender 
streamer of smoke. 

These hot-springs mark the true importance of Shirane 
San as a volcanic vent. They are profuse in quantity, very 
strongly impregnated with mineral matter, and possess an 





tmnsnallj high temperature. All these characteristics prove 
that they come fresh from a vast caldron within; and the 
very fact that they are continually in action prevents an accu- 
mulation of gas and vapor necessary for an explosion from the 
crater itself. To judge of the mountain by its low altitude, 
or by the smallness or the prolonged slumber of its more im- 
pressive vent, affords no fair criterion of the forces within. 
The size and character of the springs to which it gives rise 
furnish the real measure of this volcano's volume. 

We started betimes the next morning for the ascent ; and I 
was by no means sorry to rise early for the purpose. I even 
question whether I should have looked lingeringly at the 
steeple in the proper orthodox manner, had there been one to 
look at, so uncommonly glad was I to get away. 

The day itself was all we could wish, with the morning 
mountain freshness still in the air. The sky was clear, — 
much too clear, we began to think after half an hour's walk ; 
for by that time the sun had gained strength, and the road 
was without shade of any kind. The exposure, owing both 
to the increasing force of the sun and the increasing rarity 
of the air, grew every moment more pitiless. Very soon 
those first few minutes of delight seemed ever so long ago, 
and we came to look back upon them as men do upon their 
lost youth. The trail we followed was the regular road over 
the Shibu Toge, and for the first five miles led us up outlying 
spurs of the mountain as barren as could be. It was one 
continuous ascent, commendable at least for sincerity of ap- 
pearance. It never deceived us by promising the top every 
quarter of a mile ahead, only to disclose another summit 
beyond as soon as we reached the first. But it was terribly 
long, and none the less steep on that account. To add to 
the discomfort, the slopes were destitute of water, and, I am 
sorry to say, delusive as well ; for we did come across one 
miserable little apology for a brook, of which the professor, 
in the eagerness of his thirst, drank so hastily as to swallow 
a quart, more or less, of it before he realized his mistake. 
The liquid was simply diluted sulphur. He should have left 
precipitancy to the stream, as I endeavored to point out to 
him. But he did not appear to realish the pleasantry any 


more than its cause. It took him fully half a mile to recorer 
his equanimity, and even after that he swore at intervals. 

Thoroughly baked and parched by two hours' scorching 
under an untempered midsummer's sun, we finally reached a 
little hut where the path up Shirane branched off from the 
hiain road over the Shibu Toge. Toge^ the Japanese word for 
"pass" means literally " up-down," — a name which, if not 
elaborate, is at least expressive. In English we are obliged to 
write the word with a hyphen ; but in most Japanese passes 
there is no such level stretch in the middle. The volcanic 
character of the country renders the transition from one side 
to the other peculiarly abrupt. No sooner do you cease to go 
up, than you begin to go down. In this instance we had not 
yet quite finished going up, for the pass was nearly as high as 
the top of the mountain, — a fact we verified experimentally, 
later, by crossing the one after we had climbed the other. 
But as the pass lay beyond, we took the peak first. 

The hut stood at the lower end of a large wooded hollow on 
the north flank of the mountain. Near it bubbled up a spring, 
which, mindful of our previous mishap, we eyed suspiciously ; 
but on tasting it with great caution, and finding it sweet, we 
drank immoderately of it. This hut was kept as a sort of 
hostelry in summer by the hermit who inhabited it, and was 
much patronized by travellers over the pass. Not the least of 
its attractions was the hermit himself. Unfortunately he was 
not at home when we called. I very much regretted this ; for 
though we were duly shown all his trophies, — consisting of 
antlers, bear-skins, monkey-hides, and such-like remains of 
his nearest neighbors, — the commentary upon them had to 
be vicariously done by my friend. However, perhaps time 
would not have sufficed for the unabridged edition, for such 
hermits are frightfully garrulous. They see just enough 
people to whet their tongues without tiring them, while their 
audience, a delightful combination of interest and ignorance, 
is of so transitory a nature as to stimulate them to use all 
possible speed. These occasional outpourings of the fulness 
of the heart were certainly in keeping with the locality. 
Nor is it surprising that the pent-up experiences of six long 
winter months should find exit difficult in as many minutes, 


especially in the case of a man who ground his own powder 
and contrived his own spear. This last implement we exam- 
ined with suitable respect. Like home-made articles gener- 
ally, it was no doubt more efficient than attractive, for it was 
not exactly beautiful. It lacked that meretricious surface- 
perfection which induces the inexperienced public to buy, but 
it apparently enabled its inventor to slay monkeys and deer, 
which he stalked on snow-shoes, and then ate. 

From this point up we had the mountain ail to ourselves; 
for since the eruption had divested it of its religious insignia, 
pilgrims had ceased to visit it. For some distance the path 
wound about through the patch of forest, — a stunted growth 
of gloomy firs, with here and there a dead one, like the ghastly 
wraith of its former self. A pathetically picturesque spot it 
was, with the gray moss mantling the ashen stems, and a 
barren sunmiit protruding from the woods in front. Out of 
the hollow the timber-belt extended about half-way up the 
peak, running round this whole side of the crown. The awe 
connected with the place no doubt gave a religious turn to 
my imagination quite in keeping with the Japanese genius of 
the spot, for I could think, of nothing, with this view before 
me, but one of those sleek, tonsured monks whose sanctity 
permits only a halo of hair. The analogy was still further 
borne out by the faint filament of smoke that curled up from 
his cranium ; for in the portraits of the old Buddhist saints 
handed down to us, it is no uncommon thing to see them 
despatching their spirits abroad after this fashion. As I 
plodded on. Fancy, in her own kaleidoscopic way, suddenly 
changed the picture, and I was sitting as a small boy again 
in church, silently staring during the sermon at the bald pate 
of the old gentleman in the pew in front. A bowlder or two 
did very well for flies. Then I thought of the Sennin, those 
pious sprites who, in Japanese mythology, act as holy hermite 
of the hills, and wondered whether in extreme cases they were 
suitably shaven too. I enjoyed a whole service of such dis- 
solving religious views while I toiled summit-wise. 

Twenty minutes or so from the last tree brought us to 
what turned out to be the outer edge of an outer crater. All 
the way up, the mountain had presented a singularly long 


front east and west ; but, in a most surprising manner, just 
as soon as we reached the summit, its greatest length seemed 
suddenly to have changed to north and south, a deception to 
which peaks are prone. The scene we found ourselves gazing 
down upon would for mournful monotony be hard to match. 
In the immediate foreground lay an oval crater, which might 
not untruthfully be called a mud-hole ; for, filling it com- 
pletely, lay spread out before us a billowy sea of solidified 
mud. A glance showed that this was not the scene of the 
eruption, but only a subsidiary pot into which some of the su- 
perfluous melted matter had been casually spilled. Beyond it 
we were aware of another depression lying to the south of its 
farther wall. We could see nothing as yet save dense masses 
of cloud rising out of the void, but we heard quite enough to 
quicken our pulses as well as our steps. Though the mud 
looked solid enough, we suspected it of being only a congealed 
film ; so we discreetly skirted its edge till we reached the 
opposite end of the crater rampart, and found ourselves on the 
verge of a small precipice, — a portion of a wall surrounding 
another crater somewhat larger and much deeper than the 
first. This second sink was still, in a semi-lively condition. 
It was at once evident that the last eruption had taken place 
here, for it was yet going on. Indeed, though it did not need 
history to convince us that the disturbance was in a moribund 
condition, enough life was still left in it to make the sight 
anything but tame. Through the dense steam-cloud which 
more than half filled the vast cavity we could occasionally 
make out, as the breeze lifted the curtain, a solid floor below, 
pierced by two round holes which resembled mammoth cal- 
drons. One of these was simply seething, boiling up, after the 
manner of a huge kettle ; the other one was in a more inter- 
esting: condition. Every few minutes it was shaken by a 
mighty throe, and with a report like the bursting of a gigantic 
boiler a column of mingled steam and water was hurled fifty 
feet into the air. Fortunately the wind was not our way ; so 
that our position, a good post of observation for what little 
was visible through the dense masses of steam below, was 
as safe and comfortable as the circumstances permitted. A 
confiding sense of security, however, was not the effect it 



-^ s 

5 8 






produced upon us, for the explosions of the crater-geyser were 
really awful, and their fitful character rendered them even 
more so. Had they been continuous, sameness would have 
dolled the edge of sensibility ; but as it was, each new explo- 
sion found the ears almost as unprepared as if they had not 
known it was coming. At these moments we could hardly 
believe that the volcano was really quieting down, for it pro- 
duced the impression of being about to hurl us piecemeal into 
space. One may talk contemptuously of a mountain when 
one is not under its immediate influence ; but the lofty deso- 
lateness of even an inanimate peak is singularly impressive. 
If, instead of an inert mass, the mountain be a volcano, and 
in eruption, the effect is terrific. In the presence of the dis- 
play of such Titanic forces in all their overwhelming, irre- 
sistible strength, — forces of which we ordinarily fail even of 
conceiving, — it is but a part of one's humanity to be awe- 
struck. At each renewal of the geyser's throe I felt as if I 
were to end my ephemeral existence then and there. The 
consciousness that no such catastrophe had as yet occurred, 
nor was likely to happen without full preliminary warning, 
was but slightly reassuring to one standing on the brink of 
such an abyss. 

When I had had as much of the exhibition as I cared to 
witness, I introduced the sight to the camera. I was obliged 
to wait some time for a lucid interval in the crater's blinding 
passion, inasmuch as the clouds of steam that rolled up from 
out the pit, not without a grandeur of their own, obscured 
everything else. After many false starts I eventually suc- 
ceeded in getting a view of the opposite side and of a part of the 
crater-floor. I next tried to catch the geyser in the act. But 
the exposure was too much for it ; it sought refuge in cloud. 
Both results would have been better had the plates not been 
unfortunately fogged at some previous period of their exist- 
ence. The pictures have one advantage, however, — that of 
being in a certain sense portraits ; for an active volcano comes 
as near as possible to a thing of life, while its physiognomy 
changes at each fresh outburst, to say nothing of the slower 
alteration it suffers at the hands of Time. 

The natives used to dig sulphur in the crater. But they 



politely stopped work when the mountain began to insist so 
obligingly upon quarrying it for them. 

Of the size of the pit left by the last eruption I cannot 
speak accurately. I had no means of measuring it, so that 
my estimate is based principally upon the memory of the 
camera. It was perhaps five hundred feet across and fifty 
feet deep on the average, for the crater's rim was very irregular 
in height. It was by no means an imposing crater ; but its 
present activity made up for its want of size, and its cloak of 
cloud artfully covered a multitude of its shortcomings. When 
we reflected that it was still spurting away in this threatening 
manner fully twelve months after the time it first broke out, 
we were far from grudging it our climb. At any rate it was 
the very latest thing in Japanese eruptions, and I believe has 
held that enviable position of noveliy ever since. 

On our way down we carried the camera to the farther side 
of the wooded ravine, and gave it a parting look at the peak. 
There was nothing very grand about this farewell view. Indeed, 
the only thing that relieved it from mediocrity was the cloud 
of steam that surged up in the mountain's midst in faint white 
puffs, hovered an instant over its summit, and then vanished 
into the air. Whether the camera saw this one life-like bit in 
the otherwise dead landscape, I have in my more matter-of-fact 
moments grave doubts. I sometimes fancy that I can detect 
its form in the photograph, though the fatal suspicion will 
force itself upon me that what I gaze at so fondly is only a 
blemish in the print, due to a flaw in the negative. Tet I like 
to imagine the vapor there, and that I still see it though no 
other can. For to me it seems the spirit of the spot, which 
has vanished for a while, but which some time shall return, 
when the mountain will wake once more to life ; and I bethink 
me of the soul of the Sennin, sent abroad to wander over 
the earth while his body slept, and which, after many days, 
returned to him again. 


The Ascent of Long's Peak. 

By F. H. Chapin. 


The mighty ranges of the Rockies come sweeping down 
from the north through Montana and Northern Wyoming as 
several nearly parallel ranges, occupying a great breadth of 
country, in some sections as much as four hundred miles. 
South of Fremont's Peak, the central mass gives place to a 
high pleateau, over which the Union Pacific Railroad finds a 
way from Cheyenne to the West. South of this plateau the 
mountains rise again to great heights, and enter Central Colo- 
rado as two distinct ranges, — the Medicine Bow Mountains on 
the east, and the Park Range farther to the west. The Front 
Range, so called from its geographical position, rises abruptly 
from the plains in Northern Colorado, and is marked by such 
great rock-summits as Hague's Peak (13,882 feet) and Long's 
Peak (14,271 feet), in the north, and Pike's Peak (14,147 
feet), near the end of the range, a hundred miles farther 
south. It is the scenery on and aroimd Long's Peak which 
this paper will seek to describe. 

Long's Peak is of great interest to the mountaineer. It is 
the highest point in Northern Colorado, and its ascent is more 
difficult than that of any other peak in the range. It has 
been rather fancifully named the ^^ American Matterhorn ; " but 
when we consider that one side is actually inaccessible, per- 
haps it is worthy the comparison, — for the Matterhorn has 
been ascended by aretes on all sides, though, of course, its 
easiest line of ascent is manifold harder to conquer than is 
the ordinary route up Long's Peak. 

Estes Park, in which are many picturesque scenes, is the 
natural centre for mountaineering in Northern Colorado. It 
is situated near the Wyoming line, and about seyenty miles 
northwest of Denver. A stage-ride of some thirty miles 
from Lyons, the last railroad-station on the plains, brings 
the traveller into this elevated valley, — 7,000 feet above 
the sea. There are about ten thousand acres of pasture- 
land bordering on the banks of the Big Thompson Creek and 


the Binaller streams, and these have all been taken up as 
homestead claims by pioneers. Seven thousand acres have 
passed into the hands of an English company, which, I was 
informed, originally intended to have a great game-preserve ; 
but the ranch interests are now predominant, and large 
herds of cattle of graded Hereford breeds roam throngh the 
pastures. Besides the ranch of the English company, there 
are five others in the Park ; and at one of these (Ferguson's) 
we made our headquarters for the summer. 

Before narrating our experiences on Long's Peak itself, per- 
haps it would be well to speak of several views of the moun- 
tain from points in and around Estes Park. One thing very 
noticeable is the fact that no mountain presents so many dif- 
ferent aspects when seen from the four points of the compass. 
From the plains to the southeast, two noble peaks appear as if 
of nearly equal altitude. From the top of Sheep Mountain, 
only five miles away, — a long range (9,000 feet) near Fer- 
guson's ranch, — the final cone demonstrates its superiority, 
and grandly lifts its head over the intervening wooded slopes 
of Estes Cone. Wind River Valley, which lies between Sheep 
Mountain and the main range, is 2,000 feet lower than Sheep 
Mountain ; so from this elevation one may behold a slope of 
7,000 feet leading up to the summit of the principal peak. 
Still more majestic is the appearance of the peak from the 
top of Prospect Mountain, eight miles away, and overlooking 
Sheep Mountain, which is then projected against the base of 
the great range. But by far the most striking view is that 
obtained from Table Mountain, a peak on the Continentardi- 
vide, about six miles to the northwest. I imagine that very 
few persons have beheld the peak from this direction; and the 
photograph from which the illustration^ which accompanies this 
article was made, cost me many hours of climbing and much 
setting up of the camera and experimenting, before this most 
characteristic view was obtained. The appearance of the noble 
mountain is like a citadel perched upon enormous bastions, 
and protected by ramparts made by intervening walls of rock. 

^ Plate y I. — I am under great obligations to Mr. W. L. HaUett for his earnest 
endeavor with me, that daj, to find the best position that would show the 
remarkable tower. 


Mountaineers may realize, from examination of the illus- 
tration, what a splendid field this is for new expeditions, — 
either to follow the summit of the chain from Long's Peak to 
Hague's Peak, along the spur to the right, or to explore the 
upper caflons and glacial lakelets. The number of lakes 
among these gorges add greatly to the picturesqueness of 
the views. A summer spent among these rock walls would 
present any number of varying excursions, which would show 
to the explorer marvellous and enjoyable sights, with the bare 
possibility that he might find something that would add to our 
stock of knowledge. Members of foreign alpine clubs have 
thoroughly explored and photographed the ice districts of 
Switzerland, and partially so the Caucasus; but the noble 
work of the survey parties in the Sierras of Colorado has not 
yet been supplemented to any great extent by individual 
effort. The same work remains to be done among the higher 
elevations of the whole great chain reaching from New 
Mexico to Alaska, that has been done by European alpine 
clubs in Switzerland, and is being marked out by our own 
Club in New England. Paths are to be made, trails to be cut, 
detail maps to be laid out, before the grandest scenes among 
the mountains can be shown to the tourist. 

It is a rare occurrence in Estes Park to have four suc- 
cessive rainy days; but so it happened in the summer of 
1887, from July 14 to 17. The season, however, had been 
very dry, and the parched ground needed the deluge which 
it received. The sun appeared at intervals during each 
of these days, but it would soon be hidden and the storm 
would continuQ. We had set several times for an attack on 
Long's Peak; but the weather had put us back, and we 
knew, from the whitened appearance of Mummy Mountain, 
that much snow was falling on the great range. At last, 
however, on Monday, July 18, we had a clear day, and made 
arrangements to stai*t in the afternoon for Lamb's ranch, — 
which is situated at the base of the peak, — there to spend 
the night, and in the morning make an attempt to gain the 
desired summit There were four of us in the party ; and two 
of the number left Ferguson's at five o'clock, while with one 
companion I rode over after tea, arriving at Lamb's at eight. 


Even this part of the expedition is full of interest. The 
road skirts the side of Mary's Lake, and leads through wide 
pastures for several miles; then passes up a steep hill, 
through a forest, with the stupendous cliffs of Lily Mountain 
hanging over the valley. This mountain is 11,453 feet in 
height above sea-level, and its summit corresponds with the 
average of timber-line on the great range. The upper cliffs 
are steep and bare on the inner side, while on the eastern 
side, which is a gradual slope, heavy timber grows to the top ; 
hence from the plains the mountain has an entirely different 
appearance, showing two black summits, and is called by 
another name, the '* Twin Sisters." Lily Lake, quite a large 
expanse of water, lies at the base of the mountain, and gives 
it its name. As we passed the lake we saw several mallard 
ducks out on the water. 

Lamb's claim is in a high, well-watered valley ; in fact, it 
is almost a swamp in some places. The elevation is about 
8,500 feet above the sea, making it about 1,500 feet above 
Ferguson's ranch. The owner keeps a charming mountain- 
inn; the house, which is built of logs, is very comfortable, 
and our advance guard announced that they had been served 
to a remarkably good supper. All the supplies which Lamb 
purchases, he has to haul up from the plains, thirty miles 
distant.^ In the sitting-room of the house is a very large 
fireplace, made of rough stones, before which, while the logs 
were crackling and blazing, we sat till late in the evening, 
talking of the mountains ; and when we did turn in, I did 
not go to sleep till after twelve, and was awake at three 

Perhaps the stories of our host had something to do with it, 
for the elder Mr. Lamb tells some very interesting ones of his 
many ascents of the mountain, the most exciting of which, 
without doubt, was that made in company with Mr. Sylvester 

1 Mr. Lamb senior took up a homestead claim here, some ten yean ago» and 
for man J jears iruided travellers np the peak ; but for the past three years his 
son Carljle has done this work, and had already ascended fifty-five times at the 
date of our visit. He is a strong, willing guide ; and he worked very hard for 
me, for our packs were heavy. He has never climbed any of the elevations 
west of Long's Peak, but is at home on tliat mountain. 


G. Dunham, of Hartford, Conn., an account of which was 
published in the magazine ^^Gk)od Company/' April, 1881. 
Mr. Lamb's account of that day's adventure is a thrilling one, 
and Mr. Dunham's is equally so. When upon the summit of 
the peak, they were enshrouded in clouds ; the early morning 
had been clear and the distant views grand, but a storm 
gathered on Mummy Mountain and swept over the great range, 
culminating as an electric storm on Long's Peak. In Mr. 
Dunham's words, the cairn on the smnmit — 

** hissed and crackled like a bonfire. We bad sought it as affording 
shelter fh>m the approaching storm, but we retired from its vicinity 
in a very informal manner. The cloud had now struck the base of 
the horn, and came boiling and rolling up the * Trough.' Its ad- 
vance-guard of hard, sharp pellets of ice flew straight up the face 
of the cliff, and in another minute we were in the midst of the tem- 
pest, — a whirling volley of ice and snow, driven by an icy blast. 
Little points of white light danced in the air and beamed from 
points of the rocks ; and muttering thunder, of which neither dis- 
tance nor direction could be determined, accompanied the storm." 

In speaking of the electrical effects, Mr. Dunham further 

"My own occupation [of a cavern] was attended by a violent 
shock, which fully convinced me that my head was burned bare as 
a potato. Only by the immediate investigation and the earnest 
assurances of my friends, was I convinced of my delusion. . . . 
After some minutes the iron-bound peak seemed to exhaust the 
energy of the subtle fluid wherewith the cloud was charged ; and 
although the tempest continued with unabated fury» we had no 
longer to fear the weird and mysterious element which had sur- 
rounded us. We were still in the midst of a fhrious storm, but 
it was no longer a thunder-cloud in angry combat with opposing 

The snow-storm was so severe that Mr. Dunham and Mr. 
Lamb had many uncomfortable experiences before they reached 
the ranch at night ; but that with electrical phenomena was, 
of itself, such as to make their ascent more worthy of note 
than any other expedition to the peak. 

At four o'clock the following morning we had breakfast, 



consisting of ham and eggs, coffee and gems; and at 5.05 
o'clock were on our way over the traU. The sky was cloudy, 
but the peak was clear. We rode up through spruce timber 
for about half an hour, and then through pines, where it was 
much steeper, and along the banks of a little torrent which 
runs down to the St. Yrain River. Until within a year this 
route has been the only one up the mountain, but lately a trail 
has been cut from Sprague's ranch at Willow Park which 
joins Lamb's trail at the " Bowlder Field ; " but it is little 
used. We emerged above timber-line at 6.20 o'clock, and 
here were met by a snow-squall. However, the clouds were 
light, and a brisk westerly wind began to disperse them. As 
we rode over the pasture-land, the sun almost broke through 
the vapor, and our hopes of a clear day were considerably 
brightened. The plains were free from haze, and all the foot- 
hills were sharp and clear. 

I speak of this part of the trail as leading through pastures, 
and it certainly is a splendid grass country. Much more rain 
falls here than in the valleys, and the soil is moist and rich. 
The cattle, however, never go above the timber ; and as the 
deer, big horn, and elk have forsaken these mountains for the 
western range, this sweet feed seems to go a-begging. The 
average altitude of timber growth on the northern slopes of 
the mountains is only a little above 11,000 feet; while on 
the southern side it is as much as 12,000 feet, especially where 
it can follow the water-courses. 

We reached the edge of what is called the "Bowlder Field" 
at 7.30 A. M., and there tethered the horses in good grass and 
near plenty of water. At 7.45 we began the long walk to the 
" Key-hole," — a cleft in the wall of the mountain, through 
which one must pass in order to climb the mountain from the 
west side, as the east face is inaccessible. The finest view of 
the great cliffs of the peak is obtained just before reaching the 
" Key-hole." The face of the centre of the mountain is one 
vertical wall of about 2,000 feet. There are but few so-called 
" precipices," even in Switzerland, which prove to be really 
worth the name when closely examined ; but these walls are 
truly perpendicular, from a point about 200 feet from the 
summit to a gorge far below the ridge which hides the base 


of the precipice. I shall refer to this marvellous wall again 
when relating the story of our descent. 

At 8.40 A. M. we were standing in the " Key-hole," having 
made fairly quick time, considering the delays occasioned by 
my having a camera along. Lamb carried my twelve sensi- 
tized plates and our lunch, while I carried the camera. I 
mounted it on the tripod when we left the horses, and had no 
serious trouble with it the whole day. In fact, there were but 
two places on the mountain where, while I climbed or de- 
scended, I had to hand the instrument up or down to the 
guide. At the '^ Key-hole " one looks down upon a grand 
amphitheatre, lying beyond the ridge just climbed. Over a 
deep gorge rises a mountain wall which hides the distance ; 
and the vapor rolling up from the depths was continually 
changing and lifting, adding to the grandeur of the scene. No 
signs of animal or vegetable life were visible. Several lakes 
lay in the bottom of the gorge, or at the base of snow-fields 
on the opposite mountain. 

The diflBculties of the ascent of Long's Peak are frequently 
exaggerated. There is hardly a place on the mountain where 
the climber need use more than one hand to help himself up. 
About one hundred people have been upon the mountain an- 
nually for several years past ; but this large number is made 
by parties, sometimes as many as twenty, coming up from 
Longmont or some town by the foot-hills, and all going up at 
once, — or trying to go up, for Lamb says that many of them 
do not get beyond the " Key-hole." Many claim to be ex- 
hausted and out of breath, and lay it to the rarity of the air ; 
but as most of these people are not in training for mountain 
climbing, this is not surprising : the same persons would proba- 
bly fail in undertaking a similar walk at a lower elevation. 

Immediately after leaving the " Key-hole," the ledge trav- 
ersed is quite narrow ; and if one should be very clumsy or 
careless and slip, a fall would probably be fatd, — for the 
rocks are placed at a very steep angle, and there is nothing to 
prevent a slide of at least a thousand feet to the gorge below. 
Yet the narrow table which runs around this side of the moun- 
tain is, on an average, about six feet in width, and there are 
good footing and flat surface of rock to step on ; so there is not 



the least danger unless one should be dizzy. There have been 
no accidents on this mountain; although one death has oc- 
curred just below the "Key-hole," the result of over-exertion 
and utter exhaustion. 

From the ledges ve entered the " Trough " which is a deep 
gully running up between the main peak and a ridge of the 
mountain, on the right. This gully is quite steep, but free 
from snow and ice, although there is a large field of snow on 
its side and base. There is a great deal of loose rock and de- 
bris strewn through it ; and to traverse it is a good pull, but 
there is no actual climbing: it is simply a long walk. The 
mountain wall ascending on the right is very smooth and 
steep, but on the left the arSte of the main peak is broken up 
into beautiful ledges, towers, and minarets ; and as the rising 
vapors whirled and rushed over them, now covering and then 
partly or entirely exposing the cliffs, the effect was wonderful. 
From the table-ledges we had been able to look down 2,000 
feet upon the lakes, and upon a little stream which is the 
fountain-head of the rushing St. Train River ; but from this 
curving trough the view was upon the distant snow-ranges. 

We reached the top of the " Trough" at 10.15. Here the 
plains and the mountains above Bowlder Canon come into the 


prospect ; but the most remarkable sight is the view of some 
wonderful columnar cliffs on the southeast spur of the peak. 


tlie upright shafts, though not detached from the face of 
the cliff, are cubical on their outer surface, and seem to be 
exactly perpendicular. The rocks on the other portions of 
this spur, which seem not to be as firm in texture and not 
tipped to vertical position, are more easily wasted and worn 
away by aerial forces ; and this probably explains the manner 
of the formation of the long jagged arSte, seen to the right 
of the tower in Plate YI., which is but one of the many 
broken ridges of the peak. 

After a short rest, we climbed the roof of the peak, and at 
10.50 stood upon the summit, — a large fiat surface, composed 
of slabs of granite. It needs evidently only a pyramidal cap 
of a thousand feet, to make it an ideal summit. All was 
clear to the east ; we could see the smoke from the smelters 
of Denver, and, far beyond, the parched plains, — the most 
extensive view I have ever had in that direction. The great 
range of Pike's Peak, a hundred miles to the south of us, was 
so clear that I could recognize three different summits in the 
chain, that I had ascended. Cheyenne Mountain, the eastern 
spur of Pike's Peak, ivas a landmark on the edge of the 
plains. We could see the bluffs east of the town of Cheyenne, 
far in the north ; and towards the west there were wonderful 
cloud effects over the great ranges. 

Some siiow and hail now fell on the summit, and we had to 
be content to await the clearing of the storm, and meanwhile 
l^tudy the view and landscape in the east, and trace the coui'se 
of rivers on the plains. But even when the clouds were thick- 
est in the west, there would be openings which would let us 
look into deep gorges, or show us some peak in the Rabbit 
Ear range in the west, or tlie Medicine Bow group, the mighty 
range of mountains in the northwest. Our most distant view 
was far away to the snow-caps in Wyoming. I looked down 
over one low divide where Lamb pointed out trees growing on 
the Pacific slope. While the west was obscured, we spent 
some time gazing into the crater-like basin on the east peak, 
the sides of which are smooth and steep, but not as abrupt as 
the face of the peak we stood upon. 

For a while we thought we should have no clear views of 
the western peaks ; so I set up the camera at the west end of 


the summit, and took two pictures of the partly exposed 
ranges, to secure something in the way of a view from the top, 
even though it should be a cloud scene ; for I feared the storm 
would grow fiercer, and the mist envelop our peak for the rest 
of the day. But soon the wind drove the covering from the 
Front Range ; and Middle Park, with Grand River cutting a 
clear line through it, and all the snow mountains which encir- 
cled the high valley, were plainly shown to our expectant eyes. 
Then as we waited, the high pile of cloud, with its lower fold 
resting on the range, was driven to the southeast, and the 
peaks around — Gray, Torrey, and the Mountain of the Holy 
Cross — gradually appeared ; and with the exception of the 
great mass of Mummy Mountain, we had secured a complete 
view of all the peaks and ranges ever visible from this famous 
elevation. A long streamer of cloud stretched away from the 
top of the Mummy (which is the next peak in height to 
Long's Peak, in this district) ; but it held fast to the summit, 
and refused to reveal the crest of the mountain. The Elk, 
Rabbit Ear, and Medicine Bow ranges were now clear. Estes 
Park lay spread out like a quiet green pasture, and Willow 
GaBon made a deep black cut up through the mountains to the 
northwest, towards the Medicine Bow Range; a long snow- 
line marked those mountains. 

We reluctantly left the top at one o'clock, having re- 
mained there two hours. The outlook facing us going down 
the ^^ Trough " was grand ; the smooth surface of the rocks 
now on our right, and the towers and broken ridge on our left, 
made a magnificent frame through which to view the distant 
ranges. In this gully Lamb had a fall, and for a moment I 
was dazed at seeing my much-prized plates spinning in the 
air ; but luckily there was nothing damaged, as I found, much 
to my wonderment, when I unpacked at night. 

The ^' Key-hole " was gained at 2.10 p. h. ; and then we fol- 
lowed down the " Bowlder Field," under the stupendous pre- 
cipices of the peak. On this field, covering several hundred 
acres, are strewn great slabs of granite, — some as much as 
twenty feet in width, and thirty feet in length, — and between 
them are heaped bowlders, great and small. These rocks must 
have been carried by the great mass of ice, which tore them 


from the higher neighboring peaks, and left them here in past 
ages, in the days when Long's Peak may have had the hypo- 
thetical cap which I have desired for it. Even now this great 
mountain shows signs of disintegration ; the northern precipice 
is scarred and worn, and seamed with enormous cracks ; slabs 
are loosened from its cliffs, and hang, to all appearance, like 
thin pieces of slate from its sides. But all the despoiling of 
the mountain, upon this face, is by vertical cleavage ; and there 
are no changes going on which will destroy the absolute 
precipice which now exists.^ 

I have already referred to precipices and so-called preci- 
pices. It is probably true that most of us are more famil- 
iar with the Alps than with the Rocky Mountains ; for the 
high valleys of Switzerland are so easy of access, and the dis- 
tances are so small, that one can cross many glacier passes 
and ascend important peaks with much less trouble than he 
can visit such an out-of-the-way place as Estes Park and 
climb the mountains which surround it. Many are undoubt- 
edly familiar with the view of the Matterhorn as seen from 
Zermatt The east face — the one seen from Zermatt — is 
generally spoken of as a precipice, and looks like it too ; but 
Whymper said of it, in his account of his seventh attempt to 
climb the mountain, ^' that the east face was a gross imposi- 
tion ; it looked not far from perpendicular, while its angle was, 
in fact, scarcely more than 40°." The ascent of the Matter- 
horn from Breuil is probably one of the most difficult climbs 
that has ever been attempted and accomplished; yet when 
standing above Breuil, one can see plainly how the mountain 
is broken up into ledges, and in no place is there a vertical 
surface of more than 500 feet. A peak of peerless beauty 
in the Alps is the Zinal-Bothhom, near Zermatt. Placed far 
back on the range, this mountain is not at all popular, and 
is not even visible from Zermatt, the great mountaineering 
centre. But those who have looked upon its steep sides from 

1 It leems to me that the explanation of the formation of this diff is not easily 
found ; bnt I would refer others who, like myself, may have an interest in the 
question of the general formation of the range, to Clarence King's " Report of 
the Geological Exploration of the Fortieth Parallel," article *' Colorado Range/' 
Section L, by Arnold Hague. 


a near yiew-point would say that they looked upon a precipice, 
and one who has scaled its cliffs would certainly carry away a 
Tivid impression of the vertical.^ But although made up of a 
series of precipitous ledges, the mountain-side falls far short 
of making straight up and down lines. The opposite side 


of the Rothhorn also makes a grand rock-slope, too steep 
for snow to lie on, yet that is also placed at an angle of about 
40*^. But the tower on Long's Peak exposes an unbroken 
front of 2,000 feet, as smooth as the side of Bunker Hill 
Monument. Former estimates have credited the precipice 
with 3,000 feet of altitude. We should have to look to the 
walls about the Yosemite, to find anything superior in actual 
vertical heights to those of the Front Range. I know that 
our party lingered long gazing at this sheer cliff ; and only 
the fact that we were liable to be benighted in the forest 
forced us to hurry away. 

We reached the limits of the « Bowlder Field " at 8.30 p. m., 
and mounting our horses were at Lamb's at 5.20 o'clock. 
But, sad to relate, as we reached the lower edges of timber- 
line, we heard thunder booming on Estes Cone, and saw 
flashes of lightning on the upper peaks. The dashing rain 

^ See "The Zinal-Rothhoro," Appalaohia, toL Iy. plate iiL 


was immediately upon us, and we rode into Lamb's enclosure 
at a gallop, camera and sensitized plates dancing on my 
horse's back at great risk, and all of us drenched by the 
torrents which were poured upon us. 

Topographical Contributions. 

Br J. Ratner Edmands. 

BMdJaly 1, 1887. 

I. The Exten9ion of the Appalachian Systematic Nomenclature. 

The inadequacy and uncertainty of popular names, for use 
in the work of mountain surveying, was recognized in the 
spring of 1876, by the first Committee on Nomenclature ap- 
pointed by the Club. A system for designating summits was 
therefore submitted, not to supplant, but to supplement, the 
popular names. The system was applied to Mr. Henck's 
map ^ of the White Mountains. What the Committee did for 
White Mountain summits will be useful in other cases, but 
some modifications have been needed in order to admit such 

This necessity became evident in preparing a little map* of 
located points near Mt. Adams, when the writer took occasion 
to expand the system, but deferred explaining his method 
in order to submit it to a committee appointed subsequently 
(Nov. 14, 1877). The modified system has since been applied 
to Mr. W. H. Pickering's map * of the Mt. Washington Range, 
and briefly described by him ; * it has also been used on the 
blue-prints issued in 1886, and on the map distributed to mem- 
bers in 1887. From first to last the scheme has been of great 
service in our topographical work, giving conciseness and defi- 
niteness in conversation, in field-notes, and in print. 

To quote the original Committee's report : * " The whole 
mountain district has been divided into a number of sections, 

1 Afpaijlchta, Tol. i. pL iii. > n>id., vol. i. pi. yiii. 

• n>id., Tol. iU. pi. U. « Ibid., vol. iii. p. M. 

• Ibid., ToL L p. 7. 


each of which is designated by a capital letter. The various 
mountains in each section are then numbered, and the sepa- 
rate summits of each moimtain are denoted by a second number. 
To prevent any two sections from including the same moun- 
tain, the division should be along the rivers and notches, or, 
what is more easily recognized and yet practically the same, 
along the railroads." In the modified system we conceive 
a mountain as an area bounded by valley-lines, a ^'section" 
in miniature, and we provide that such an area may be sub- 
divided along valley-lines. To the whole mountain area we 
give the number already used by the Committee, and to a 
subdivision we give the Committee's ^^ second number;'* so 
that Q 8.1, while denoting the same summit as before, may 
refer to a whole subdivision containing it. 

The report also specified that '^ the lakes and other objects 
may be designated by small letters annexed to the section- 
letter." This course is to be followed for a pond lying within 
a section and between two mountains;^ but we now annex 
the small, letter to the designation of the smallest area which 
wholly contains the object, — so that a bowlder, lying wholly 
within a given subdivision, will have the numbers of the 
mountain and the subdivision interpolated between the two 
letters.* Between the numbers of the mountain and of its 
subdivision a period is used ; and care is taken not to use a 
period before the number of the mountain, nor after the num- 
ber of the subdivision. This accords with the original appli- 
cation of the system on Mr. Henck's map, regardless of the 
work of the printer who set up the examples given in the Re- 
port. Indeed, it becomes necessary to warn proof-readers that 
the capital letter denoting the section is not an abbreviation, 
and that it should have no period immediately following. 

Thus it has been found practicable to develop a system for 
designating a very large number and a great variety of ob- 
jects, without departing materially from the original scheme 

^ For islands in such a pond, we might use smaU flgares annexed to the last 
letter, like exponents in algebra ; for example, F d*. 

* F 10.2 d, for example. Within subdivisions it is intended to reeerre the 
letter a for the highest point ; but after letters hare been once applied, we do 
not interchange them to accord with later determinations of height 


which was invented for summits, It is to be remarked, 
however, that the whole number of sections to be provided 
for will exceed the capacities of the alphabet. The letters 
are therefore to be used over and over in different regions ; 
and, when necessary for definiteness, the section-letter is to be 
preceded by some obvious abbreviation (that of the State, for 
example) with a comma between.^ Again, to follow the rail- 
roads in running boundary-lines is no longer " practically the 
same " as to follow the streams, now that we designate objects 
other than summits. Should we, for example, deny a place 
on lit. Willey to the bowlder which saved the house in the 
fatal land-slide of 1826, just because it lies east of the Port- 
land and Ogdensburg Railroad ? Evidently we must hold to 

Where practicable, the writer has adopted Mr. Henck's map 
as a precedent not to be departed from. Still, no one would 
thank him to adhere rigidly to boundary-lines swept at random 
across unsurveyed tracts, nor to countenance duplications, nor 
perpetuate evident misconceptions of the lay of the land. Ac- 
cordingly, after mature deliberation, a very few changes^ were 
recommended for the map distributed to members last year. 
For example. Loon Pond Mountain and Kancamagus hav- 
ing both been inadvertently figured as N 6. on Mr. Henck's 
map, and the latter being apparently connected with Tripyra- 
mid, which is given as Q 6.1 to 6.6, the principal summit of 
Kancamagus was shown as Q 6.7 on the later map.^ The only 
change not positively necessary was to figure Mt. Agassiz as 
J 11. instead of E 11., in face of the Committee's reconmien- 

^ N. H., Q 8.1 a UiDt becomes the AiU designatioa of a summit which would 
often be sufficiently distinguished as Q 8. 

* The writer has bound himself to the rule that, although one designation 
maj be dropped in favor of another, yet the first appearance of a given epectfic 
designation indicates the only pomt or area to which it ever ought to be applied, 

• It is very hard to avoid inadvertences in dealing with so many points. The 
preparation of this article has led the writer to notice that the southern 
shoulder-like summit of Kancamagus, which should be 6 10, is figured as 6 6, 
the designation of the southeastern rounded summit of Tripyramid. Again, 
two points in section L, called for convenience 4 and 0.4 b *'of W. H. P." in 
the writer's manuscripts, appear improperly with the figures but without the 
qualification, in spite of the fact that 0.4 is again used for Mt. Stanton, to which 
it belongs by priority of appUciation. 


dation that the hoondary shoidd pass ^ south of Mt. Agassiz." 
Bat such a striking across countrj was mmatoral, at hest ; 
and the subsequent development of the system rendered an 
adhesion to the principal streams all the more important. 
The apology for the change is that, if made without delay, 
the number (11.) originally used for the mountain could be 
retained. However, no other mountain in section E should 
be numbered 11. The boundary as changed conforms to the 
principle laid down in the second paper of this series. 

n. Topographical Subdivinon of a Country along VaUeyB. 

Let the country be divided into sections, ,a8 was done for 
New Hampshire by a Committee of the Club.^ Then let 
each section be divided into mountain areas, and let areas be 
similarly subdivided when desired, as suggested by the writer. 
Points and objects may then be classified according to the 
area in which they are found, and designated as explained in 
the preceding contribution. 

The Committee recognized the propriety of using streams 
for the boundaries of sections; but the writer proposes in this 
paper to discuss the method of carrying out the whole system 
in the most natural manner, confining all boundaries to valley- 
lines. Arbitrary boundaries we must allow, however strongly 
we may discourage them; but let us impose the condition 
that when the arbitrary lines are erased, there shall remain a 
network of natural divisions, conforming to such rules as we 
may be able to lay down. Thus, two or more arbitrary sec- 
tions, separated by State lines or other arbitrary boundaries, 
may together constitute one natural section. 

We need some guiding principle in order to arrive at a 
system of boundaries which shall commend itself to the judg- 
ment of others who may have to conform to the lines we lay 
down. Let us, therefore, start at the principal notches, or cols, 
and work each way, but always downward along valley-lines, 
until we reach the natural boundary of the region which is 
being divided; boundary-lines may meet, but the valUyAine 
proceeding downward from the junction %% to continue a% a 

^ Affalachia, toL i. p. 7. 


hrnndary-line between areas of the same class. The rule is to 
apply equally, whether we are separating a large region into 
sections, or dividing a section into mountain areas, or sub- 
dividing one of the last-named areas. Mr. W. H. Pickering 
kindly conformed to it in dividing the State of Maine.^ The 
rule has logical foundation : it is a corollary from the concep- 
tion that a mountain, or a mountainous section, considered as 
a unit naturally bounded, is an area into which no water 
flows ; and what is true for the larger areas is applied to the 
subdivisions. It must be admitted, however, that in bounding 
the subdivisions it is often necessary to draw on the imagina- 
tion, in order to make valley-lines on two sides of a ridge 
start from the very crest, and to make the slightest depression 
on the crest serve the purpose of a col. 

It is remarkable how closely the work of the original com- 
mittee in dividing the State of New Hampshire into sections 
conforms to the rule given above. Setting aside small ambigu- 
ities and the intentional departures from valley-line divisionSi 
the only infraction of the rule which has come to the writer's 
knowledge is on the line dividing sections F and L : one can . 
not pass from the Peabody River south of Boott Spur to the 
Mt. Washington River, along valley-lines, without entering the 
water-shed of the Rocky Branch, a stream not used as a sec- 
tion boundary. These two sections, therefore, are arbitrarily 
bounded ; but together they form one natural section. 

In dividing a State abutting upon the arbitrary boundary of 
a State already divided, care is needed to follow the rule about 
arbitrary divisions given at the end of the second paragraph 
of this paper. This was looked out for in dividing the State 
of Maine ; but it was found desirable to regard tlie boundary 
between sections H and P in New Hampshire as arbitrary, so 
that these two, with section Q in Maine, together form a 
natural section.^ 

Another precaution is, that when a mountain area or sub- 
division is cut by an arbitrary State line, the two parts of the 
natural area shall be designated by the same number in the 

1 For use in Appalaohia, vol. ii. pi. t. 

* Except at regards an insignificant triangular area of aboat an eighth of a 
Bgnaie mile, boonded bj the Androscoggin, Wild Biver, and the State line. 


two States. Mt Bojce (S. H., H 4. A Me., Q 4.) famishes 
an example.^ 

m. On Mapping Important Topographical Feahtre9. 

It is very desirable to prodace mountain maps, showing 
smnmits, ridges, rallers, notches, cols, and the like, without 
waiting to make the complete and expensive surreys which 
would enable us accurately to fill in either contours or hatch- 
ings. For this purpose the writer would propose a system of 
symbols, which shall be conventionalized suggestions of the 
forms of contours. It will suffice in this paper to develop a 
system applicable to Appalachian regions, leaving its modifi- 
cation to those who may wish to apply it to mountains of 
very different type. 

In our region most of the ridges are rounded, cases where 
contour-lines are sharply bent at the ridge-line being rare: 
but contour-lines on opposite sides of a ravine often meet at 
an angle upon the stream, or above it upon the course of the 
rill, which occupies the valley-line during rains. Consequently 
the circular arc with convexity pointing down-hill may typify 
salient features, while the obtuse Y pointing up-hill typifies 
re-entrant ones ; series of little arcs will indicate the course 
of ridges, and series of little Y's will similarly indicate valley- 
lines when they are not sufficiently indicated by streams. For 
very sharp ridges we may then use pairs of sixty-degree arcs, 
meeting in a point, each arc centred at the free end of the 
other, as at y in the cut. So much can be shown with sixty- 
degree arcs of unvarying radius, that it is doubtful whether 
variations ought to be sanctioned,^ lest an ability to show too 
much carry with it the implication of more than is actu- 
ally known about the country mapped. For the same reason 
the individual arcs must not be regarded as parts of contours 
of certain absolute height above the sea. Their frequency, 
however, may Jndicate steepness of slope, and furnish the 
means of rouglily estimating differences of height. In the cut, 
I represents the vertical section of a ridge, and, supposing it 

1 Appalaohia, vol. ii. pi. t. 

« In the cut, radii of two lengths, one twice the other, bsre been wed. 


to be straight in plan, II bIiowb how it would be indicated on 
the map, the blackening and elongating of certain of the arcs 
to be explained later. Valley-lines may be similarly treated, 
except that in deep narrow ravines we cannot limit the acute- 
ness nor always retain the symmetry of the Vs. Ill, for ex- 
ample, shows a ravine whose southern side is much steeper 

v a b c d 

( ( («((C I C { ((O ) ))))}1)1 ) ) 

1 ;;;;;;; I\^>>>>>> V»»5 VIo 


W >:( X )X( )( X X A 
a 6 c d e h k 

than its northern. When there is no reason to the contrary, 
we should use a conventional obtuse V composed of lines in- 
clined sixty degrees to the valley-line and one hundred and 
twenty to each other, as shown in IV. 

When ridge and valley lines are fully represented, the posi- 
tions of notches and cols, or in general of the '^ saddles," will 
be evident; otherwise we need a symbol for them. In VII, 
a shows the generalized form for a saddle, the distances be- 
tween the apices of the arcs and. of the V*8 being equal, and 
the angle between the lines of each V being sixty degrees. 
Useful variations are shown in b and c. A notch with slowly 
descending valley-lines and steep sides is better represented 
in A For a long, narrow col a pair of obtuse V's may be used, 
as in e, or one obtuse and one acute V when the differing forms 
of the ravines on the two sides warrant it, as in h. Where 
ridges descend upon a plateau from which a ravine breaks 
down between the ridges, we have the form shown in k. Such 
variations, and others which may be introduced, hardly need 
special explanation : they are referred to, in order to stipulate 
that they may be used when the ridge and valley line symbols 
in series are absent. 


AH the foregoing symbols are to be drawn in light lines of 
uniform weight, and such lines are never to be considered as 
definite locations. Locations are to be given by arcs drawn 
in notably heavier lines, or by heavy dots, the centres of the 
arcs and dots indicating the precise point. Such a dot may 
be placed near the middle of the light-line symbol for a saddle, 
when the point has been definitely located. A fairly sjrmmet- 
rical summit is shown in II c. Breaks of sixty degrees indi- 
cate especial flatness in the direction of the omission. Thus, 
at II a, we have a summit approached on one side by a nearly 
level ridge. At II b is shown a knob on a nearly strai^t 
ridge, and in YI is indicated a knob at a bend in the ridge. 
Mere shoulders may be indicated as in II d. All these arcs 
are multiples of sixty degrees. 

Precipitousness is to be indicated by a straight line. Drawing 
such across a stream is a frequently used symbol for a fall. Tak- 
ing the symbol shown in 11 a, and connecting the extremities of 
the arc by a chord, we have a summit with a precipitous side. 
Substituting a straight line for either of the V's in VII i, gives 
a col with one side precipitous. Substituting a straight line for 
one of the arcs in YII b or d, indicates a col, or a notch, over- 
looked by a cliff. Other combinations will be readily understood. 

In all cases we must bear in mind that the object of the sys- 
tem is to place upon the map the information which is at once 
most needed and most readily attainable, mthout appearing to 
show more than is actually known. This being understood for 
the symbols, a pictorial effect for the map may be obtained, if 
desired, by covering the whole with fine-line hatchings, which 
only pretend to bring out the most conspicuous features of relief. 

A Day and Night on the Benton Range. 

Bt Frank O. Carpenter. 

Read Not. 14,1887. 

From the summit of Montebello, in Newbury, Vermont, one 
looks eastward upon a view of rare loveliness and harmony. 
In the foreground at our feet lies the "Great Oxbow," — 


a brood, fertile intervale, dotted here and there with stately 
arching elms ; while fields of golden grain and ripening com, 
like patches of sunshine, blend with the rich, deep green of the 
meadow grass. Beyond, the Connecticut River, already hurry- 
ing seaward, pauses for a moment to rest, and makes a long, 
graceful curve, nearly encircling the intervale. Not a ripple 
breaks the surface of the wat^r in this curve, and it flashes in 
the sunlight like a silver bow. Its farther bank is fringed 
with alder-bushes, while just behind them stretches a dark belt 
of woods. Next come steep upland pastures with their vary- 
ing shades of brown and green. Above them rise the noble 
and picturesque peaks of the Benton Range, beginning to the 
south with the low peak of Owl's Head in Warren, and stretch- 
ing for ten miles northward. The dark blue of the slate rock 
of Owl's Head becomes a gray on Blueberry Mountain, a deli- 
cate pearl on Sugar Loaf, and a snowy white on the northern- 
most peak, which by a strange contradiction is called Black 
Mountain. But strong, self-reliant, and beautiful, waiting 
with calm patience till the crown of a worthy name be given it, 
Black Mountain lifts his alpine peak high in air, and with his 
fellow mountains keeps watch and ward, a trusty sentinel for 
his king. And the king ? Lift up your eyes to where, be- 
yond the shining snowy peaks and far above them, silent, 
massive, majestic, with his robes of radiant purple about his 
mighty shoulders, rises Moosilauke, the royal. 

For four years the wonderful beauty of the view from Mon- 
tebello lingered in my memory, and the defiant cliffs challenged 
my attack upon them ; and it was with great pleasure that I 
found that the exploration of the Benton Range was my duty 
this year as Councillor of the Club. I made several attempts 
to get some companions for a walk over the range, but was 
not successful, and then decided to attempt the walk alone ; 
with some doubts as to the pmdence of such an act, for both 
guide-book and report united in calling the peaks difficult and 
dangerous. I reached Warren Summit, July 20, planning the 
ascent for the next day ; but five weary rainy days were passed 
in a small farmhouse, and on the afternoon of the sixth, in a 
heavy rain, I walked over the "North and South road" be- 
tween Moosilauke and the Benton Range, to the village of 



Benton, where I proposed to pass the rest of the summer, if 
necessary, waiting for a fair daj. But the clouds broke as 
I reached Benton, and by night the sky was nearly clear. 

The next morning, Tuesday, July 26, dawned fair and warm. 
The clouds had disappeared, except that some masses still 
drifted about the summit of the highest moimtains. At about 
7.30 o'clock I said good-by to my kindly hosts, strapped a can- 
teen of cofifee to my belt, and began my day's walk. The way 
at first followed a steep country road, which winds about the 
ridges of Black Mountain for a couple of miles, from the 
Benton highway. It then ceased abruptly at the last house, 
and thence a cart-path was followed for another mile through 
open pastures, along a natural terrace from which one has fine 
Tiews of the hills of Benton and of the Connecticut valley to 
the westward. At length the grassy road came to an end 
before a tottering old barn and the ruins of an ancient farm- 
house. From this point was gained the first view of the rocky 
summit of Black Mountain. A vague, narrow path gave some 
assistance for a quarter of a mile, but came to an end on the 
edge of a deep, wooded ravine. After a few minutes' rest 
beside a small brook, the compass-bearing of a great bowlder 
near the summit was taken, and I began the real work of the 
day at about nine o'clock. The woods were open and easy to 
traverse at first, but grew obstructed with windfalls as the top 
was approached. An hour or more passed hi steady climb, 
with occasional halts of a few minutes for breath, and at last 
the summit of the ridge was reached. It was level and seemed 
to fall away on all sides, yet it was not the summit of Black 
Mountain. No view could be obtained because of the thick 
foliage. Some time was spent in endeavors to find a ridge 
leading toward the mountain, but vainly. At last the compass 
was consulted; and for the first time in my experience, it 
pointed " the wrong way," — directly toward the south as it 
seemed. But the needle was obeyed ; I turned squarely about, 
and followed the course it directed. A slight descent to a shal- 
low col, and then the slope grew steeper ; soon the bowlder 
seen from the old barn was reached, and the monotony of forest 
was exchanged for beautiful views. About fifteen minutes' 
scramble over the ledges brought me to the top, where, to my 


surprise, I found three men picking blueberries. Thej had as- 
cended the west side of the mountain by a much shorter way. 

It was then nearly half-past eleven o'clock ; so there was only 
time for a short rest. The view is very fine to the north and 
west ; but to the east the great mass of Moosilauke hides all 
summits except those of the Lafayette Range. The air was 
clear, and I was able to decide a point queried in Osgood's 
Guide; namely, that Mt Washington is not visible from 
Black Mountain. 

I would gladly have lingered ; but before me, across a broad, 
deep ravine, rose Sugar Loaf, reputed the most difficult and 
dangerous of the peaks I had to explore. Black Mountain 
descends to the west by a series of precipitous cliffs, in many 
places almost perpendicular. At 12.15 I began the descent 
I do not remember to have met with so difficult and dangerous 
a half-mile of climbing in New Hampshire, unless it is on the 
side of John Quincy Adams toward Mt. Madison. It was with 
a breath of relief that I reached, at one o'clock, the smooth 
pasture-land at the base. A remarkable feature of Black 
Mountain and Sugar Loaf is that the smooth open pastures ex- 
tend to the very base of the cliffs, and the entire height of the 
peaks is thus seen free from the usual fringe of woods, making 
the mountains seem more rugged and lofty than they really are. 

From the base of Black Mountain to that of Sugar Loaf 
is a distance of perhaps a mile and a half, broken into two 
pastures by a narrow strip of trees that grow along a brook 
flowing from the col which lies between the two summits. 
A logging-road runs through the woods beside the brook, 
a branch of which seems to lead toward the ridge behind 
Sugar Loaf. This was followed for some distance ; but when 
at last it bent northward, it was abandoned, and the ridge itself 
followed toward Sugar Loaf. As the peak was approached, 
the woods grew open and delightful. A cool, fresh breeze 
blew gently through the trees, and swung the dainty bells of 
the carpet of oxalis beneath my feet. The slope grew steeper, 
and a few evergreen thickets appeared, which were easily 
penetrated. Then came a bare ledge, steep but easy to climb, 
a pocket of spruce-trees, another short ledge, another hollow 
of blueberry-bushes and moss, and then a third ledge, which I 


climbed, and found to my sarprise that I was on the aummit 
of Sugar Loaf, 8 p.m. "The exciting perils of the ascent," 
as promised in the guide-book, had dwindled like many a 
mountain spectre on approach. On the west there are dan- 
gerous precipices, and it is on this side that the guide-book 
describes the ascent. The route via the '^ iron pins sunk in 
the rock" is one made some years ago by an adventurous 
climber of the neighborhood who wished to ascend Sugar 
Loaf on its only dangerous side, and adopted this expedient to 
accomplish his purpose. 

I remained on the summit till 8.80, resting and enjoying the 
view, which is the finest to be had from any point on the 
range, and which has few equals in the White Mountains. 
Black Mountain, with its massive ledges and giant terraces^ 
towers across the intervening ravine, while for miles one can 
trace the broad shining Connecticut sweeping seaward through 
its rich intervales. Few summits can give such a feeling of 
being on a lofty tower, for upon the west one looks down 
almost vertically hundreds of feet to the cattle and sheep in 
the pastures below. 

From Sugar Loaf a walk of three quarters of an hour 
brought me to the beginning of the ridge of Holla's Back, 
which is as unworthy a name for a fine ridge as could well be 
imagined. For a half-mile the ridge is a narrow edge of 
granite, bare except for an occasional bush, and descending 
for a couple of hundred feet at an unusually sharp angle. A 
path should be marked along t^e ridge and through the woods 
to Sugar Loaf. Beyond Hog's Back came a long stretch of 
weary struggling over numerous windfalls for a mile and a 
half, where progress was so slow that my watch marked 6.80 
before I had passed this belt of woods. Then came a half- 
mile or more of young trees, a second growth, extending to 
the side of Blueberry Mountain. The trees were too high for 
one to see over them and too small to be climbed. It was 
vexing to push throuprh them among the many loose bowlders 
that made walking difficult, and feel that two feet more of 
height would permit one to see the beautiful sunset view 
which was completely hidden. 

At 6.80 the rather flat summit of Blueberry Mountain was 


reached ; but the lateness of the hour and the miles of walk 
between there and Warren Summit gave little time to enjoj 
the view, and I hurried on over alternating smooth, gently 
inclined ledges and grassy slopes. Between Blueberry Moun- 
tain and Owl's Head is a belt of woods which was entered a 
little after seven o'clock. There is said to be a path, but I did 
not find it ; and as the woods were thick and dark, I advanced 
slowly. Gradually the sky grew dark, and the moon rose; 
but Uie woods were so thick that its light was of little use. 
The open summit of Owl's Head gave no signs of appearing ; 
and at last I resolved to descend the ridge to the east and 
follow a stream to the Oliverian Brook, and thence to Warren 
Summit. The slope was extremely steep, and often the only 
way to descend was by scrambling and sliding down bare 
ledges into the darkness below, with the attractive possibility 
of a sudden drop down a cliff that could not be foreseen. At 
last, tired and hot, I reached the woods below the rocks, but 
could not stop to rest. Down, down, through tangled under- 
brush of moosewood, over tiresome windfalls, now following 
an opening in the trees that seemed like an over-grown log- 
ging-road, and now wading waist deep in water through a 
Bwampy hollow, and finally I approached a sign of human life, 
— a fence. A short distance beyond, my tired feet (not my 
eyes) discovered a cart-path that wound in and out while the 
woods grew thinner and then ceased. Then, crossing the silent 
pastures and fields, with the moonlight flashing on the dewy 
grass in broad sheets of light, so beautiful that I had to stop 
frequently and admire, picking my way over the rickety 
beams of an old bridge high above the roaring Oliverian, I 
reached at midnight a farmhouse and the highway, two miles 
from Warren Summit. A half-hour later I arrived at my 
destination at Mr. Harriman's, hungry from my day's walk 
with no food except my canteen of coffee, but delighted be- 
yond description at the beauty of the views I had seen. The 
next morning I climbed Owl's Head, and thus completed my 
exploration of the Benton Range ; and that afternoon from the 
summit of Moosilauke watched with a feeling of glad content 
the sunset colors throw their mantles of purple and gold over 
Black 'Mountain, Sugar Loaf, and Owl's Head. 


Report of the Recording Secretary for 1887. 

The year shows a slight increase in membership. The 
corporate members now number 728 ; the losses amounting 
to 76, and the new members numbering 89, the net gain has 
been 13. The Honorary and Corresponding Members number, 
respectively, 14 and 45 ; Dr. P. V. Hayden, an Honorary Mem- 
ber, having deceased, and Freiherr Ferdinand von Richthofen 
and Mr. Verplanck Colvin having been added to the Corre- 
sponding Members. The Life Members number 37 ; and the 
total membership is 787, — an increase of 14. 

There have been held nine regular, and six special meet- 
ings, and one field meeting, — sixteen in all ; tlie average 
attendance has been about eighty-five. There were presented 
at these meetings four reports and twenty-four papers. Not 
only have Maine, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts fur- 
nished subjects for papers, but Colorado has had three, Cal- 
ifornia one, and Alaska, Europe, and Asia, each two. 

The field meeting was held at the Crawford House, N. H., 
July 1-8. It was largely attended, interesting papers were 
presented, and several climbs taken. 

Excursions were made during the year to Monk's Hill, 
Wissahissick Pond, Greenfield (Mass.), Monadnock, Asny- 
bumskit Hill, Ship Rock, Pride's Hill, Watatic ; and a Club 
camping-party visited Mt. Ktaadn, in Maine. 

The Outings have been continued, and the statistics of at- 
tendance prove the value of the institution to the Club. 

The Snow-shoe Section has thirty-eight members, and 
counts twenty-two pairs of shoes. Tlie meets have been 
few, on account of lack of suitable weather. 

The annual social meeting was held, February 16, at the 
Tremont House, the attendance being 162. 

Vol. V. No. 1 of Appalachia was published in December. 
There has also been issued a map of the White Mountains, on 
scales of 1 : 100,000 and 1 : 150,000. 

Reference is made to the reports of the Councillors for the 
work accomplished in their di£ferent departments. 


Two amendments have been made to the Bj-laws, — one 
delegating the power to call meetings, and the other increasing 
the admission fee from three to five dollars. The latter has 
caused a diminution, perhaps temporary, in the number of 
new members. The net gain, however, is not less than it was 
in 1884. 

The membership of the Club is not so large but that we 
need new members to take the places of those we lose. We 
should endeavor to Interest in the work of our Club all en- 
thusiastic mountaineers ; for not only do thej make the best 
members, but they do not, after a year or two, resign or allow 
their names to be dropped for non-payment of the annual 
assessment. Our field of work is practically unlimited ; and 
however large our membership, the income from assessment 
can be profitably spent in building camps and publishing 
maps and papers. 

Respectfully submitted, 


Recording Seerdary. 

Report of the Corresponding Secretary for 1887. 

In making his report for the year now closing, the Corre- 
sponding Secretary regrets that it has been impossible for him 
to give to personal supervision of the library of the Club that 
amount of time and thought which would have been necessary 
to the attainment of such familiarity with its contents as a 
librarian should possess. Though the library is not large, 
and though the machinery for recording the loaning and the 
return of books is absolutely automatic in its working ; yet 
the first requisite for a good report — namely, an intimate ac- 
quaintance with the thing to be reported on — is not possibly to 
be attained, in the case of the Appalachian Library, so numer- 
ous are its treasures and so manifold are its sources of growth, 
without at least a year's daily contact, and an habitual devotion 
that implies more than the leisure of a busy man with many 
established interests that will not tolerate neglect. 


Daring the year thirty members of the Club have taken from 
the library seventy-five books. A very much larger number of 
persons have used the library without taking books away. 
Indeed, one of the most interesting and characteristic of the 
Club's possessions, its collection of maps and atlases, cannot, 
from the nature of the case, be used elsewhere than in the 
Club-room itself ; so that cases of consultation of maps do not 
appear in the record at all. Yet it seems not unfair to record 
a regi*et that the Club's books and maps are not more resorted 
to by the members. Any student of physical or commercial 
geography, any reader of travel or adventure, any planner of 
a summer's outing, any one who has been fascinated by the 
mystery of our own great West, would find satisfaction in a 
careful exploration of the Club's treasures. 

The increase of the library during the year has been prin- 
cipally from exchanges with the corresponding societies. 
These come usually in the form of pamphlets, which, while 
fresh and lying on the table, are examined with more or less 
care by a considerable number^ of persons. When put away 
unbound on the shelves, they remain practically hidden from 
view until bound into volimies. The policy of immediate 
binding should therefore be adopted by the Gub, for these 
volumes evidently have great value. Those issued by the 
great Alpine clubs of Europe are often marvellous examples 
of the engraver's and the map-maker's arts, besides giving 
evidence of the most earnest and painstaking work in sur- 
veying by the clubs themselves. 

As a specimen of a kind of work frequently done by the 
enthusiastic alpinists of Europe, may be mentioned a volume 
received by our Club during the year from its publishers, the 
Alpine Club of Friuli [Italy]. This is the first volume of 
what is intended to be a complete guide to Friuli, and to em- 
brace at least two volumes, each of several hundred pages. 
It is an instance of a club of explorers devoting their energies 
to a most minute and exhaustive exploration of their very 
limited home district. This first volume is wholly devoted 
to Udine. A small city in Northeast Italy is here portrayed 
in all its features. No thinkable aspect in which the patriots 
and nature-lovers of Udine could view their home is omitted. 


The book is intensely interesting, — made so by the zeal and 
affection of its many compilers. It is of no use to say that 
the world cares little aboHt Udine. The world cares very 
much about so beautiful a portrait, executed so lovingly and 
honestly, and with such simple self-respect. 

Our Club possesses at last an atlas of Massachusetts, the 
well-known atlas of Walling & Gray, made in 1871. 

In addition to the important and well-known Stieler Atlas, 
procured last year, the Club now owns a worthy American 
publication in Bradley's " Atlas of the World." This is an 
essential supplement to the German work, in that it shows 
the States of the Union on a better scale than the former. 
Home maps, however, as good in their way as the pictures 
in the " Century " and " Harper's " are in theirs, are still a 
desideratum, not merely, of course, in the library of the 
Appalachian Mountain Club, but in American cartography 

Of the beautiful maps of the United States Geological Sur- 
vey, now in process of publication, about one hundred and 
twenty have appeared, all of which are in the Club's library. 
All but three of these are devoted to the States and Terri- 
tories of the West and South. The three exceptions, how- 
ever, come near home, all falling within Massachusetts, and 
being the sheets named, respectively, the Greylock, the North- 
ampton, and the Worcester. 

From Dr. J. Scott Keltic, of London, whose acceptance of 
his election as Corresponding Member of the Club has come 
to hand during the year, we have received a copy of '^ The 
Statesman's Year Book " for 1887, of which he is editor. 

The correspondence with foreign societies has presumably 
been in amount and character very much the same during the 
year as in previous years. It has in no case related to matters 
of profound or general interest. 

Appended to this report will be found the usual summary 
of accessions to the library since the last annual report. 
Respectfully submitted, 


Corresponding Seentary, 




Academy of Natural Seieneea (PAt/a(/e(pto). — Proceedings: 1886, Part 

8; 1887, Parts 1, 2. 
American Geographical 5octe/y. — Bulletin, 1885, 4, 6; 1886, 3-5; 1887, 

American Museum of Natural Hiatary (New York). — Bulletin, Vol. L 8; 

II. 1. Annual Report, 1886-87. 
California Academy of Sciences, — Bulletin, Vol. 11. 6. 7. 
Cambridye Entomological Society, — Fsjcbe, Vol. HI. 103, 104; IV. 

Essex /fu/iftite. — Bulletin, Vol. XVm. 7-12; XIX. 1-3. 
Geological and Natural History Survey of Canada, — Annual Report, 

1885, with maps. 
Lick Observatory. — Time Service of the Lick Observatory. 
Smithsonian Institution. — Annual Report of Board of Regents, 1885, 

Torrey Botanical Club. — Bulletin, Vol. XIV. 2-12. 
United States Geological Survey. — Mineral Resources of the Uuited States, 

1885. Bulletin, 30-39. Sixth Annual Report, 1884-85. Monographs, 

Vol. X.-XII. 
United States War Department. — Annual Report of the Chief Signal 



Associacid <f Excursions Catalana. — Buttletf, Any IX. 98-108. Gufa 
del Monseny. Miscel^nea Folk-Ldrica. 

Club Alpin Francis, — (Direction Centrale) Annuaire, 1886; Bulletin, 
1887, 1-8. {Section des Alpes Maritimes) Bulletin, VII. ; Rdglement et 
Tarif des Guides. (Section du Sud-Ouest) Bulletin, Nos. 20, 21. 

Club Alpino Italiano. — (Direzione Centrale) Annuario XX. No. 53; Ri- 
vista. Vol. V. No. 12; Vol. VI. Nos. 1-11. (Sezione Fiorentina) An- 
nuario, 1887. (Sezione di Vicenza) Bollettino VIII. 6-12; IX. 1-6. 
{Sezione di Roma) Annuario, 1886. 

Club Alpin Suisse. — (jComkd Central) Jahrbuch, 1886-87, mit Beihi- 
gen. (Section Genevoise) L'Echo des Alpes, 1886, 4; 1887, 1-3. 

Den Norske Turistforening. — Arbog, 1886. 

Deutscher und Oesterreichischer Alpenverdn. — Zeitschrift, 1887; Mittheil- 
ungen, 1886, 24 ; 1887, 1-3, 5-23. (Section Austria) Oesterreichischer 
Alpenverein, 1862-1887. Eine Denkschrift, 

Magyarorszdgi Karpdt-egyesQlet. — Jahrbuch, 1887. 

Oesterreichischer Alpenclub. ^ Oesterreichische Alpen-Zeitung, Vol. VUL 


Oetterreichischer Touristen-Club, — Oestarreichische Tonristen-Zeitnng, 

VII. 1-23. 
Si^enbOrgischer Karpaihenverein. — Jahrbuch, VIL 
Societa Alpina Friulana, — Illiistrasione del commane di Udine. 
Societal deglt AlpinisU 7Vtcf«n/tm. — Annuario, XIL 1885-86. 

GeographiMche GtUlUchaft (Greifswald). — Jahresbericht 11. Part 2. 
GeseUsehaftfitr Erdkunde (Berlin). — VerhaQdlangen, Bd. XIV. 1-7. 
Imp. Russkoye Geographkcheskoye Obshtscheitvo, — Lmestiya, XXII. 4-6; 

XXni. 1-4. Otchet, 188$. 
Kais-'kifnigUche Geographuche GeselUchaft. — Mittheilungen, 1886. 
Nedefiandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootachap. — Tijdschrift Ser. II. Deel. 

m. 9, 10, 3'. Deel. IV. 1-10, 2^. 
Roytd Geographical Society. — Proceedings, Vol. 1-12. Educational Re- 
ports, 1886. 
Scottish Geographical Society. — Magazine, Vol. III. 1-12. 
Sociedad Geografica (Madrid). — Boletin, Tomo XXI. 3-6; XXII. 1-^. 
Sociedade de Geographia (Lisbon). — Boletim, 5* Ser. 11, 12, 6* Ser. 1-12; 

7* Ser. 1. Elogio Historico de Antonio Augusto d' Aguiar. 
Societh Geografica Italiana, — Bollettino, Ser. II. Vol. XI. 12; XII. 1-11. 
SociAe de Geographie Commerciale (Bordeaux). — Bulletin, 1886, 22-24; 

1887, 1-3, 5, 9, 11, 15, 18, 20, 22. 
Societe de Geographie Commerciale (Paris). — Bulletin, Tome VIII. 4; 

IX. 1-7. 
Sodil^de Geographic de r<Hir». — Revue, 1887, 1-7. 
Societd Royale de Graphic d'Anvers. — Biiiietm, Tome XI. 3, 4; XII. 

Sodeti KkMimah de (Jeo^opAw. — Bulletin, 11* Ser. 10, 11. 
Verein der Geographie an der Univereitdt Wien. — Bericht uber das XII. 

Verein fltr Erdkunde (Leipsic). — Mittheilungen, 1885, 1886, 1-3. 

Other Exchanqbs. 

Kais.-kdn. naturhistorischen Hofmuseums (Vienna) Annalen, Band IE. 

Revue G^ographique Internationale (Paris), Nos. 132-14L 
Teikoku Daigaku (Imperial University, Tokio), Journal of College of 

Science, Vol. II. Parts 1-4; Calendar for 1886-87. 
White Mountain Echo, Vols. VHI., IX, X. 


Science, Vol. IX. Nos. 224-229; Vol. X. Nos. 230-234, 236-256. 
Guide to Mdosehead Lake. Charles A. J. Farrar. 

^ Names of donors are in italics ; names of members of the Club are marked 
by an*. 


Agrieultoxe and Geology of Midiie* Ailimal Beporto, YL, YII. 1861, 

Camps and Tramps about Ktaadn. 

Report of CommiaBioner of Edncatioii for 1884-85. Washington. 

Ktaadn. (Collected from varions magazines.) 

Orer the Mexican Flatean in a Diligence. Prof. A, S. Pochard,* 

Proceedings of the Newport Natoral History Society, 1884-85, 1885-86. 

Massachusetts Institate of Technology, Abstract of Flnooeedings of the 
Society of Arts, 1886-87. 

Meteorological Obaenrations at Bine Hill Observatory in 1886. A . Lauh 
renee Rotch,* 

Wagner Free Institato of Sdenoe of Fhiladelidiia. Transactions, Vol. I. 

Terme di Yaldieu. Varalda Luigi. 

Statesman's Year-Book for 1887. J. Scott KeUU* 

Gnide da Hant-Danphin^. 

New England Meteorological Society. Bolletins 82-87. 

Maps and Charts of United States Coast Survey to 1854. Re». E. £. 

Report of Superintendent of United States Coast Survey, p. 1856. Rev, 
E, E, HaU.* 

Partial List of Charts, Maps, and Publioattons relating to Alaska^ and ad- 
jacent Regions. Rev, E, E, Hale,* 

Charles £. Hamlin ; a Memorial, by F. W. Bakonan. 

Treasurer's Report for 1887, 

RxcxiPTS roB THE TsAB BHDiHO Dbo. 81, 1887. 

Balance on hand, Jan. 1, 1887 : 
Permanent Fund awaiting investment .... 1208.88 
Reserve Fund " " .... 700.00 

Room Subscriptions 274.70 

General Funds 648.68 


Admission fees : 
From 25 new members at S3 .... 975.00 
«• 62 «* " " 6 . . . . 310.00 

^ 1385.00 

Assessments from 30 members for 1886. 
" " 497 " «* 1887. 

a a 14 a u 1888. 

Total .. 541 at 93 1,623.00 

AmaunU carried forward 12,008.00 91»831.76 

tbbasurbr's repobt. 141 

AmofBoUM brought forward 92,008.00 91,881.76 

Life-MembenhipB from S. A. Woods, Mr. and Mrs. 
George Sampson, James M^tiyier, £. H. Wil- 
liams, Mn. £. fi. Wazd, — 6 at 930 180.00 

Sales of Appalachia and other publications : 

By Sales Agents $108.80 

Ticknor & Co., Maps for '< Gmdes " . . 75.00 


From Committee on Annual Beception .... 10.00 
From Committee on Field Meetings and Excursions 40.20 

Interest on Investments 79.34 

Donations for Expenses of A. M. C. Room . • . 114.00 


Paticsnts fob the Tkae 1887. 

Postage and stationery 9163.98 

Printing and advertising 125.40 

Clerical services 107.12 

Expenses of meetings 95.45 

Appalachia : 
Balance on Vol. lY. No. 4 and Index . 973.67 

Vol. V. No. 1 434.53 

Postage and other expenses of delivery . 36.10 
Binding complete volumes in cloth . . 22.41 


Trustees for investment : 

Permanent Fund 9388.38 

Reserve Fund 1,000.00 


Department of Natural History : 

Thermometers and rain-gauges 20.12 

Department of Topography : 
For field-work in vicinity of Moosilauke, 
by the Councillor and two assistants . 9314.00 

Map of White Mountains 224.97 


Department of Improvements : 
Ktaadn, — camps, paths, and signs . . 983.60 

Waterville-Livermore Path 25.00 

Mt Pleasant Path, signs 4.85 

Beoord-bottles, etc 9.57 


AmomU carried forward 93,129.15 

142 tbeasubsr's rspobt. 

Anumnt iraught forward 93,129.15 

A. M. C. Library : 

Books t42.00 

Binding, cataloguing, etc 60.60 


A. M. C. Room, rent, heat, care, etc 604.81 

Committee on Field Meetings and Excursions on ao- 
count of winter excursion to Williamstown . . 60.00 


Cash on hand, Dec. 81, 1887 660.64 


The Treasurer has also reoeiyed, since the first of January, bills for the 
Club Register amounting to $91.43, and for the postage on Appalachia, 
Yol. y. No. 1, for $35.69, both of which properly belong in last year's 
accounts, but were too late for approyal by the Council. 

GARDNER M. JONES, Treasurer. 
Jan. 4, 188& 

The undersigned hsTe examined the accounts of Qsrdner M. Jonei , Treasurer 
of the Appalachian Mountain Club, for the year 1887, and find theoi properly 
kept and correctly balanced, with satisfactory Touchers for all payments. 

We find that there is a cash balance Ui the hands of the Treasurer of 

Rest F. Curtis, \ 

8. C. RooBRS, > Audilon. 

Delia L. Vilxs, ) 

Report of the Trustees of the Permanent and Reserve 
Funds for 1887. 

The Permanent Fund now amounta to fifteen hundred dollars. This 
is invested as follows : Eleyen hundred and seventy-two dollars are de- 
posited on interest at the Suffolk Savings Bank, Boston ; three hundred 
and twenty-eight dollars are deposited on interest at the Provident Insti- 
tution for Savings, Boston. 

The Reserve Fund is one thousand dollars, upon which interest has 
accrued from April 2, 1887. The amount of the Fund is loaned to the 
Massachusetts Loan and Trust Company, Boston, from which amounts 
may be drawn at any time should they be needed. 
Respectfully submitted, 

Wm. H. Nilks, ^ 

A. E. Scott, > TruiUa. 

Chas* W. Kbnnaro, ) 


Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1887. 

Natural History. 

Bt Geobob Dimmock. 

The Councillor for Natural History has but little progress 
to report. 

It seemed best to continue the valuable meteorological 
work undertaken by Professor W. M. Davis, the Councillor 
for Natural History during 1886, and carried on in connec- 
tion with the New England Meteorological Society. With 
Professor Davis's assistance this work has been continued, and 
the reports of observers have been made directly to him for 
comparison and tabulation. Mr. W. F. Carr, having moved 
from Shelbume, N. H., the observations in that place have 
been continued by Mr. Albert C. Lary. Miss M. H. Dix, 
observer at Quincy, N. H., has resigned, and the instruments 
have been removed to Plymouth, N. H., where Miss Helen 
M. Clark has been secured as an observer. Observations 
have been continued at Berlin Mills, N. H., by Mr. Q. A. 
Bridges ; at Stratford, N. H., by Mr. N. B. Waters ; and at 
West Milan, N. H., by Mr. A. A. Higgins. New apparatus 
has been sent to Berlin Falls, N. H., where observations will 
be begun soon by Dr. F. A. Colby ; and to North Conway, 
N. H., where Mr. J. L. Binford consents to perform this service 
for the Club. An increase in the number of places where 
observations are taken within limited distances from each 
other but at different altitudes is very desirable, in order to 
further the knowledge of mountain meteorology; but the 
chief obstacle to such an increase is the difficulty of securing 
suitable observers. 

Your Councillor wished to begin, with the help of the mem- 
bers of the Club, some observations on a subject with which 
he was more familiar than with meteorology; but family 
duties and afflictions absolutely prevented the devotion of any 
time to the work. The subject proposed for investigation 
was the distribution of animals, as influenced by mountains 
and plains and by the approach of mankind ; especially in its 


application to such yertebrates as are being exterminated 
in New £luglaud. As a few instances, may be mentioned the 
retreat in New England of bears, wild-cats, and rattlesnakes 
to limited hilly areas. This subject, having both a popular 
and a scientific side, is well suited for the collection of 
notes, items, and other data by the Appalachian Mountain 
Club, and is a subject of the same interest, although not as 
fully studied, as is the distribution of plants. 

Reports of the Councillors for the Autamn of 1887. 

Bt a. £. BUBTOK. 

It was decided, last May, by vote of the Council, to appro- 
priate the sum of $300 to be expended by the Councillor of 
Topography in the making of a map of the vicinity of Mt. 

The manner of expending the money was left to the discre- 
tion of the Councillor, and the area to be surveyed was 
roughly defined as follows : In the direction from north to 
south, from the valley of the Wild Ammonoosuc to Ply- 
mouth ; and from east to west, from the valley of the Pemi- 
gewasset to the Benton Range. The rectangle formed by 
these boundaries would include an area of some three hun- 
dred sqiuire miles. 

Of course, neither the appropriation, nor the time at the 
command of the Councillor, could warrant the undertaking of 
a detailed survey of so large an area. It was therefore de- 
cided to make a careful plane-table triangulation extending 
over the entire area, thus obtaining correct locations and ele- 
vations for mountain summits and all prominent points. As 
secondary work detailed surveys were to be made, during all 
available time, of the roads, paths, and streams in the least- 
known portions of the area ; the mapping of detail in the more 
settled portions was to be confined to the examination and 
correction of existing town maps. 


A part^ of three was thought sufficient for the accomplish- 
ment of the work planned ; and Mr. Beaman and Mr. Guppy, 
two students of the Sophomore Class in the Civil Engineering 
Department of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 
were found willing to give their services to the Club for the 
sake of the practical experience in surveying, the Club paying 
all expenses. 

The large majority of instruments used by the party were 
loaned by the Institute of Technology. The following is a list 
of the instruments used in the work : One Plane Table, pat- 
tern of United States Geological Survey ; one Alidade, pattern 
of United States Coast Survey; three Aneroid Barometers; 
a small Casella Mountain Transit ; Pocket Compasses, Steel 
Tapes, Stadia Bods, etc. 

The Coast Survey points — Mb Moosilauke, Mt. Cuba, and 
Mt. Stinson — were plotted on the plane-table sheet, and 
formed an admirable basis for the triangulation. The trav- 
ersing of the more important roads was done by the use of 
stadia and transit ; foot-paths were generally put in by means 
of the compass and pacing. Aneroid barometers were fre- 
quently used in the determination of elevations, and with ex- 
cellent results. 

The party remained in the field until the last week in Sep- 
tember; and although there were an unusual number of rainy 
days, the Councillor feels justified in reporting that a satisfac- 
tery amount of work was accomplished. 

A plane-table sheet, of about ten miles square, including the 
whole of the Mt. Moosilauke mass, was finished with more or 
less detail, on a scale of ^^l^^ ; and another plane-table sheet 
presenting a triangulation of the whole area was completed on 
a scale of -^i^^' These maps are to be prepared for photo- 
lithographic reproduction during the coming summer. 

It gives the Councillor pleasure to express his sincere appre- 
ciation of the faithful and intelligent assistance afforded him 
by Mr. Beaman and Mr. Guppy. Our thanks are due to the 
hotel proprietors of the region surveyed for the general reduc- 
tion in rates, and especially to the proprietors of the '^ Moosi- 
lauke " and the « Tip Top House.'' 



Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1887. 

Bt Fbakk O. Cabpentsb. 

The Councillor of Exploration has the honor of presenting 
his report for 1887. 

In the spring he expressed his intention to visit during the 
summer Districts 12 and IS, — the vallej of the east branch 
of the Pemigewasset, and the region around Mt. Moosilauke, 
— the two districts, of the original thirteen into which the 
White Mountains were divided for exploration, in which work 
seemed especially desirable. 

It is with pleasure that the Councillor reports that all the 
work of importance in District 18 was accomplished during the 
summer of 1887, which result is largely due to the thorough 
and valuable assistance of the Councillor of Topography dur- 
ing his survey of Mt. Moosilauke. His party carefully ex- 
plored Mt. Moosilauke, with all of its adjacent ridges and 
ravines, and ascended Mts. Eineo, Cushman, Waternomee, 
and Stinson. His report will be found on another page. The 
writer carefully explored alone the Benton Range lying west of 
Moosilauke, which includes the sunmiits of Black Mountain, 
Sugar Loaf, Hog's Back, Blueberry Mountain, and Owl's Head. 
In company with Mr. W. H. Beaman, of the Survey party, he 
also traversed the long massive ridge of Mt. Carr, the only 
important summit which remained unexplored. Accounts of 
these explorations are appended to this report. 

In District 12 the writer visited Russell Mountain, and ex- 
plored the part of the Lafayette Range south of Flume Moun- 
tain, passing along the ridge called " Whale-Back." To the 
sharp peak at the southern extremity of the range, which is 
one of the most striking and interesting features in the view 
from North Woodstock, hitherto unnamed, it seems to the 
Councillor that a name suggested several years ago for it by 
some visitors to the valley, namely, " Osseo Peak,"* might well 

^ "Osseo*' is said to mean " Son of the Evening Star;" and the name wai 
suggested by a brilliant star which rises above this peak, as seen from the 
Femigewasset Valley. 


be adopted. The remaining summits of this district — Mts. 
Hitchcock and Huntington, and the Loon Pond Mountains — 
the Councillor was unable to visit on account of continuous 
rainy weather during the remainder of his staj in the valley. 
As always, the department is indebted to the tireless enthusi- 
asm of Mr. E. B. Cook and Mr. W. H. Peek for valuable work 
on the Pilot Range. 

Mr. George H. Witherle has made extensive explorations 
in the Ktaadu region, of which a condensed account will be 
found on another page. Many interesting papers on explo- 
rations by Club members and others have been read at the 
meetings during the year, some of which will be printed in 

While all the most prominent summits and ranges of the 
true White Mountain region have now been visited and de- 
scribed, there remains much valuable work to be done in the 
filling in of important details. 

In closing this report I would recall to the minds of the 
members the extreme importance and desirability that this 
department should possess a record of any work done among 
the mountains, however slight; and would request that all 
members should send to the department at the end of the 
season an account of the walks or ascents they have made, 
while the remembrance is fresh in their minds. The record 
and details of a walk apparently unimportant by itself, often 
become of great value in connection with other data possessed 
by the department. 


The following account of explorations in the vicinity of Mt. Etaadn 
in Miune has been condensed from letters written by Mr. George H. 
Witherie, of Castine, Me., to the late Professor Charles £. Hamlin and 
Mr. B. B. Lawrence : — 

1 Mr. Witherle f tronglj protests against the new spelling, " Ktaadn/' and 
often Talid reasons for the retention of the older and more usual orthography. 
Where his words are quoted that form is here employed ; but it has not seemed 
wise to the Publishing Committee to abandon without more deliberate considera- 
tion the form of spelling which has been employed in Appalaohia for sereral 
years. — Pub. Com. 


Mr. and Mn. Witherie left Medway, Sept 14, 1884, in canoes, 
and went np the East Branch of the PenobBOot (Mattagamon) to Trout 
Brook. Ktaadn was found to be visible from the river at the following 
points: below Ledge Falls; about one-half mile below Bocky Bips; about 
one and one-half miles below >Vhetstone Falls; a brief view about one-half 
mile below Whetstone Falls; and a brief view about one-half mile below 
Stair Falls. From Trout Brook they crossed to the mouth of the Sourdua- 
hunk Biver, on the West Branch of the Penobscot, — a distance of about 
forty miles ; the canoes and baggage being hauled over the ** tote roads " 
to the lower Sourdoahunk dam, and carried thence about three miles to 
the West Branch. From camp at the second Sourdnahunk dam, about 
nine miles from the West Branch, Mr. Witherle ascended three of the 
Sourdnahunk Mountains: the one from which the great slide starts, and 
which was ascended the year before (Appalachia, vol. iv. p. 24) ; the long 
mountain south of this; and the most northerly of the high summits, — 
probably one of those called ** The Brothers *' on Hubbard's last map. 
Before reaching the top of the latter he passed through considerable scrub. 
The summit is oval in shape. The ledge is not exposed ; but there is a 
long and rather narrow pile of great angular rocks on or near the axis of 
the upper part, looking at a little distance like an immense stone- wall. 
Among the interesting objects visible was what might properly be called 
the West Basin of Ktaadn, — a ravine on the west side of the northern 
end, in shape much like the North Basin, but somewhat smaller. On 
this trip he made a partial ascent of Ktaadn from an encampment in the 
woods on the south slope of the long mountain previously mentioned. He 
also ascended a hill on the southwest side of the West Branch, and one 
mile above the mouth of the Sourdnahunk stream, obtaining a fine view 
of Ktaadn, the Sourdnahunk Mountains, the river, and parts of the lake 
region. Descending the West Branch in their canoes, the party reached 
Medway October 12. 

Leaving Medway again Sept. 11, 1885, they went up the West Branch 
to the mouth of the Sourdnahunk, tramped through the woods into 
the ravine between Ktaadn and the Abol Mountain, and camped on the 
upper waters of the Aboljackamegns.^ He thus describes the locality: 
** The top of the Abol Mountain looked down the brook upon us, and 
from the opposite bank was a view of the spur of Katahdin, rising abruptly 
from the woods along its base. Clouds and sunshine divided the after- 
noon. When the setting sun shone through the tree-tops around us they 
were lighted up, and glowed like a mass of coals ready to burst into 
flame." They spent the next day along the brook, enjoying the little 
cascades, the clear deep pools with sandy bottoms, the large blue asters, 
the delicate harebells, patches of ripe raspberries, and the scattering wild- 
currant buflhes. The forest-growth was mostly spruce, fir, and birch, but 
with an unusual number of large mountain-ashes, whose clusters of bril- 
liant red berries made a fine contrast to the yellow leaves of the birches. 

^ See Hubbard's map. 


On the 2l8t he started with one guide for the Bommit of Ktaadn. As- 
cending the brook, they followed the larger branch at the forks, passed 
several cascades and a fresh slide, and in three and a half hoars from camp 
reached the table-land, and in one hour more the summit. They de- 
scended by the Southwest Spur, having on the right the great ravine 
through which they had ascended, and on the left the slope towards the 
river. * ' The latter was beautifully and variously colored, dark evergreens 
mixing with delicate shades of green, yellow, and orange. The great 
slides, after scarring the first steep declivity of the mountain, here and 
there penetrated the forest. Below us in front the yellow leaves of a 
narrow strip of birches marked through the black growth the winding 
course of the brook along which we had travelled. The sky was cloudy 
and wild. The sun shone occasionally on distant portions of the land- 
scape, and for a long time reflected with a dazzling light from a part of 
Moosehead Lake." 

The next day he followed the left branch of the brook to a cascade seventy- 
five feet high. He then climbed to the top of Abol Mountain, — a sum- 
mit between the brook and the Sourdnahunk Mountains. Upon its side 
are the bare precipitous olifiEs visible from Ktaadn. ^* The top is a little 
locky knob, close to the edge of the precipice, thirteen hundred feet above 
the camp, and thirty-five hundred above the sea. Here we had another 
grand look into the gulf, and the most complete and satisfactory view we 
had yet obtained of the Sourdnahunk Mountains and the north end of 
£atahdin. Far below us we caught a glimpse of the smoke of our camp, 
fire floating up above the trees. The late hour restricted us to a short 
stay. We descended the spur towards our camp, picking our way among 
the precipitous ledges and sliding down steep slopes." 

On this trip he aJso climbed a hill on the north side of the West Branch 
and four or five miles above the mouth of the Sourdnahunk River. It 
rises about twelve hundred feet above the river, and nearly nineteen hun- 
dred above the sea, and is the highest elevation so near the river from the 
l^ortheast Carry to the ocean. It is probably the Sentinel Mountain laid 
down on one of the sheets in the atlas of Piscataquis County. ** Its sum- 
mit — granite ledges, thinly sprinkled with small trees — is very conspic- 
uous ; and tourists on the river should not fail to make the ascent. Half a 
day will suffice. The view of Katahdin and the Sourdnahunk Mountains 
is unequalled by that from any place along the West Branch. Many 
other elevations, miles of the river valley in both directions, a large part 
of the lakes, and numerous little ponds scattered among the woods, go to 
make up the landscape. I'he woods were dressed in the brightest of their 
autumn glories; and the stillness and warmth of the day added perfect 
comfort to our quiet enjoyment of the scene. Although the height of their 
season had evidently passed, a profusion of blueberries still grew on the 
upper ledges, just ready to drop from the bushes, — many of them of a 
black variety, large, sweet, and the very perfection of ripeness." 

They also visited Ktaadn Pond, which lies near the West Branch. 


Near the eastern end ia a point thinly covered with pines. '* At its ex- 
tremity we passed two delightful hours, enjoying the view of the trans- 
parent water, the winding and irregular shores, the little white beaches, 
and, above all, of Katahdin. Its rise begins near the opposite shore, at 
first in gentle and thickly wooded curves and slopes, from which its grand 
gray-brown scarred ledges tower abruptly to the table-land. A slight haze 
softened its rugged features, a warm light illuminated them, and a few 
thin clouds drifted slowly by its summit. This pond or lake, so little 
visited, seemed to us, both in itself and in its surroundings, one of the 
most beautiful we had seen." 

In the autumn of 1886 Mr. Witherle visited Ktaadn by the way of Sher- 
man and Russell's camp on the Wassataquoick River. The party camped 
eight days at a point about half a mile below the tree-line on the northern 
end of the mountain, at an elevation of about thirty-four hundred feet. 
One day he descended into the West Basin from the ledges at the 
head of the path. Near the bottom he crossed a fine brook, full of cas- 
cades, a long line of them being in sight at once. Beyond the brook he 
passed over a small bare hill, and then crossed the outlet of a pond which 
is smaller than the one in the Great Basin, and is invisible from the upper 
ledges of the mountain. Then he came to a level-topped and nearly bare 
hill which overlooks another pond, much larger than the first, and visible 
from some of the northern ridges. The smaller pond impressed him as 
one of the most charming spots he had seen about Ktaadn. It is quite 
under the mountain, and lies at a lower level than the larger pond. The 
outlets of both run into the cascade brook. A curious narrow ridge pro- 
jects into the basin between the brook and the small pond; and along this 
ridge he ascended, coming out upon the ledges at a point higher than 
where he left them in the morning. 

The next day he climbed over the northern summits, and ascended to 
the top of the mountain, enjoying fine views. In wandering over the 
table-land he came across a large boiling spring, with a succession of 
others below it, southwest of the northern summits. Another day the 
whole party visited the precipices on the north side of the West Basin. 
They left the path a short distance above the camp, and spotted a line 
through difficult woods. After a while they reached a clear space sloping 
to the edge of a tremendous precipice, whence they looked down upon the 
lower fioor of the West Basin and the two ponds on the opposite side. 
'they also had a complete view of the Basin walls, the sharp ridge, the 
brooks, and cascades, and the main Wassataquoick River coming down 
from the great flat between Ktaadn and the Sourdnahunk Mountains. 
After more hard work they reached the end of the spur, where another 
fine view of the Basin was enjoyed, and also a look around the comer at 
Traveller and the other mountains in the north. 

On this trip he also visited the great Western Spur, which is very wide, 
and has a rounded summit far out upon it. It projects a long distance 
toward the Sourdnahunk Mountains, giving a near and comprehensive 


yiew of them, of the great flat which they enclose, and of the West Basin. 
He went part-way down into a ravine on the south side of the spur, and 
found a pretty pond, long and narrow, with a small grove of birches at 
the upper end, and a little brook running through the trees into it. The 
outlet of the pond was white with the foam of rapids, and ran into the 
head of the Wassataquoick. 

From Russell's camp he made a trip up the river three miles, reaching 
the bluff from which he previously had looked down. At the base of the 
most northerly of the Sourdnahunk Mountains is a large tract of immense 
angular rocks. From the highest of these there was a grand look into the 
West Basin, a view of the whole valley between Ktaadn and the Sourdna- 
hunk Mountfidns, and down the stream a view of Traveller and its com- 
panions. Before leaving the woods he went to Lunkusu Pond, near the 
East Branch ; and from a hill a mile east of the pond, and about five hun- 
dred feet above it, he had a remarkably fine and comprehensive view of 
Ktaadn, the summits near the East Branch, the Wassataquoick YaUey, 
Traveller, Chase's Mountain, and Sugar LoaL 

The Benton Range. By Frank O. Carpenter. 

To the west of Mt. Moosilauke, and separated from it by the ridge of 
Mt. Clough, lies a range of hills, which are the last of the true White 
Mountains to the west, and form the eastern boundary of the Connecticut 
River Valley. The range is about twelve miles in length. It lies in the 
towns of Benton and Warren, and extends in a general north and south 
direction. It includes five summits, named as follows, beginning at the 
Benton end: Black Mountain, 3,571 feet; Sugar Loaf, 2,565 feet; Hog's 
Back, 2,300 (?) feet; Blueberry Mountain, 2,800 feet; and Owl's Head, 
2,100 (?) feet. The summits of all the peaks are bare, and are good view- 
points, the prospect from Black Mountain and from Sugar Loid! being of 
extreme beauty. There is not another peak in the White Mountains of 
the same height that affords so fine a view as Sugar Loaf Mountain, or is 
itself a more satisfactory summit to stand upon. The view to the east 
is shut in by the great mountain, Moosilauke, and the higher ridges of the 
Lafayette Range beyond; and for this reason Mt. Washington and the 
other peaks of the Presidential Range cannot be seen from any part of 
the range. The view to the north, west, and south, however, across the 
broad intervales of the Connecticut River, with the Green Mountains 
beyond, is of rare beauty and attractiveness. Between this range and 
Mt. Clough runs a road from Benton to Warren Summit, called the 
** North and South road." A short distance from this road, at the base 
of Blueberry Mountain and Hog's Back, is a long, narrow body of water, 
called ** Long Pond," which is really a chain of basins connected by nar- 


row straits. The water of these basins has for its outlet a brook, which 
flows north into the wild Ammonoosuc, through a remarkably deep and 
narrow valley in which is situated the post-office and village of Benton. 
Another large brook, the Oliverian, flows south along the base of Blue- 
berry Mountain, crosses the ** North and South road " several times, and 
curving round the base of Owl's Head in Warren Summit, flows west and 
empties into the Connecticut River in Haverhill. A brook of consider- 
able size, the *' North Branch," rises in the col between Black Mountain 
and Sugar Loaf, and flows west. Several smaller streams flow down the 
west slope. 

The geological structure of the range is interesting. On the sides of 
Black Mountain are found fine specimens of quartz crystals and other 
minerals. The rock near the summit of this peak is curiously folded and 
contorted, showing in its layers a remarkable miniature of the way in 
which rock strata are folded and bent in the earth's surface. The east 
slope is continuous, and rises at a sharp angle from the pond and stream 
at the base. This slope is broken on the side of Sugar Loaf and Hog's 
Back into two terraces, the lower several hundred feet wide, the upper 
about one hundred. The west face of the ridge is always extremely steep, 
In many places nearly vertical, forming cliffs several hundred feet high, 
and so steep that vegetation cannot grow upon them. The ridge called 
Hog's Back is so sharp that in many places it forms a knife-edge, as it 
were. In one place, where a curious notch about twenty feet wide, with 
vertical sides, cuts squarely acroes the ridge to the depth of perhaps forty 
feet, the measured angle of the east slope of the ledge on the summit is 
45®, and of the west slope 80®, while the edge of the ridge is only a few 
inches wide, not wide enough for a safe foothold. Black Mountain de- 
scends on the west by a series of giant terraced steps almost impassably 
steep to the pastures at its base, and Sugar Loaf rises also on the west 
from the open pasture so abruptly that it seems possible from the summit 
to throw a stone into the fields below. In many places on the ridge there 
is a succession of outcropping ledges like petrified sea-waves, each sloping 
steeply on the east and nearly vertical on the west side, and, but for the 
slight blunting caused by weathering, presents a perfectly clean, sharp 
edge. Owl's Head ends abruptly in a fine cliff of purple and slate color, 
which can be seen from the Boston, Concord, and Montreal Railroad, just 
north of Warren Summit station, on which the peculiar arrangement of 
the broken, overlapping layers resembling an owl's face haa given the cliff 
its name. 

No water is to be found along the ridge except in boUows of rocks, 
though a brook rises in the col between Black Mountain and Sugar Loaf, 
and probably springs would be found on the east side half-way down the 

The depressions or cols between the summits are not very deep, except 
between Sugar Loaf and Black Mountain; and the grades, though often 
steep, are rarely exhausting. 


The woods on tlie rides of the raoge are open and easy to traverae, ex- 
cept for frequent fallen trees. None of the tiresome '* semb " is met 
with on the range, thon^ an occasional thicket of eyergreen is found. 
For a mile along the ridge south from Sugar Loaf, there is a most delight- 
ful strip of forest, free from windfalls, open, and carpeted with mosses, 
oralis, and dwarf cornel. 

The distances from summit to summit [estimated] with the time nec- 
essary for easy walking are as follows : — 

MUit. Houi. 
Benton Village to old barn on the northwest tide of Black 

Mountain 8^ li 

Bam to summit of Black Mountain, no path If 1| 

Summit of Black Mountain to pastures at base 1 f 

Base Black Mountain to base Sugar Loaf across pastures . 1} f 

Base Sugar Loaf to summit of ridge If 1 

Ridge to summit of Sugar Loaf f f 

Sugar Loaf to Hog's Back f f 

Hog's Back Ridge f 1 

Hog's Back to Blueberry Mountain 2f 2 

Blueberry Mountain to Owl's Head If 1 

Owl's Head to base, by path If f 

Base to Warren Summit depot f f 

Total . . . lOf 11 

In going over the range from Warren Summit to Benton the times 
would be practically the same as above, except the third item, which 
would more than double, for the ascent of Black Mountain from the pas- 
tures is steep, severe, and very wearisome. 

The above estimates are for actual walking time for fairly good walkers. 
Inexperienced climbers and ladies ought not to attempt to traverse the 
entire range in a single day, as there is no path except from base to sum- 
mit of Bhick Mountain on the west side, and from Blueberry Mountain 
to Warren Summit. 

Notes of two Ascents of Mount Cabb. By W. M. Beaman. 

Pint Asceniy Aug. 1, 1887. Made by Frank O. Carpenter and W. M. 
Beaman, from the eastern side. 

Left train at Campton Village station, on Pemigewasset Valley Railroad, 
at 7 A. M . Stinson Pond, — a handsome sheet of water, some three or 
four times as large as Chestnut Hill Reservoir, — which lies just at the 
base of Mt. Carr, was reached by buckboard in two and a half hours; 
distance upwards of eight miles, over easy grades, and through an open, 
thinly settled ooantry, uninteresting in itself, but affording a grand view 


np and down the Pemigewasset Yallej. No diaUnt points are yisible, 
and Mt Carr Bhats off everything to the west; bat the mountains north 
and south of Sandwich Dome and Tripyramid show up to excellent 

Mt. Carr, nearly due south from Mt. Moosilauke, and about ten miles 
distant, is a very long and thickly wooded mountain, something over 
thirty-five hundred feet high, and spreading over parts of four townships 
of Grafton County. The natives know almost nothing in regard to the 
mountain, and few of thera are familiar even with the name. 

A sawmill at the head of Stinson FOnd marks the beginning of a grass- 
covered logging-road, which, closely following Stinson Brook (known 
locally as '* Sucker Brook ''), leads in a general northwesterly direction 
to the first of the Glen Ponds, — some two miles off, four hundred feet 
above and three quarters of an hour from Stinson Pond. A fishermen's 
camp is passed on the right, and within a sixth of a mile of the first 
Glen Pond, which is a quarter of a mile long, and marshy. Returned, 
and left the logging-road an eighth of a mile from the camp for the sum- 
mit, — two miles or less away, according to one*s ability to produce a , 
straight line in the woods. At first the way was obstructed by thick small 
growth, and afterwards by fallen timber and rocky g^und; but a straight 
and fairly steep course up hill led to the top of the long and broad Carr 
Ridge. As hard as it is to define the true summit from distant moun- 
tains, to find the highest point when once on the ridge is still more diffi- 
cult. There are five or more summits nearly in line, any one of which 
might be mistaken for the highest, and many differing less than one 
hundred feet in elevation. By a judicious use of an aneroid barometer 
and a pair of climbing-irons, the true summit was found, and at about 
4 p. M. labelled with a couple of flags nailed to a pole, which was itself 
nailed to a high tree. These were erected for use by the Appalachian 
surveying-party in the vicinity, and were afterwards found to be of 
indispensable service. 

The view from the tree-tops of Mt. Carr is very fair, if one has the 
time to climb trees enough ; for the summits are all quite flat. No single 
tree gave a good outlook both east and west, and very little is to be seen 
in the directions parallel to the trend of the ridge. Mt. Moosilauke and 
its Tip-Top House are well defined ; but the best view is to the east to- 
ward the Pemigewasset Valley. From western trees the Green Moun- 
tains and other orthodox sights can be picked out. Mt. Kineo and its 
long ridge cut off a good part of the view to the north and northeast. 

The Carr Ridge was followed southward for a mile and a half, over 
rocks and other incumbrances to navigation, until a broad, flat, and open 
tract was reached ('* Chalk Mountain " is the local name), nearly half 
a mile long. 

At 7 p. M. a bee-line was begun for a promising-looking pasture below, 
and presumably some two or three miles away. Fifteen minutes' trotting, 
half an hour's walking, and an hour's tumble, and a highway was en- 


ooantered at 9 p. m . The following two and a half hoars were Tainly 
spent in trying to effect a peaceable entrance into the farm-houses along 
the road until West Rumney was reached, where very comfortable quarters 
were found at the Welcome House, opposite the station. 

Second Atcent, Aug. 31, 1887. Made by the Appalachian surveying- 
party, under charge of Professor A. £. Burton, from the western side. 

Left Warren Village with camping outfit (twenty-five pounds apiece 
extra) toward noon; dined at farm-house well up on western slope of Mt 
Carr. The ascent from this side can be easily made by following the proper 
wood-roads; but information must be sought from those living on the 
mountain-side (in Warren) as to which of the many to take. 

In leaving the village ask for the road leading toward Hurricane Moun- 
tain, — a lower ridge, lying west and near Carr. The summit is within a 
quarter of a mile of the nearest wood-road, from the end of which the re* 
maining distance is steeper and harder, but not difficult. An advantage 
of this side over the eastern in ascending is that one can go farther up the 
mountain by good roads and easier grades, and utilize good wood-roads 
afterwards. Signals were found to be flying. 

Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1887. 

By I. T. Chubbuck. 

In all previous years of the Appalachian Mountain Club's 
existence the work of the Department of Improvement has 
been confined entirely to the mountainous regions of New 
Hampshire. Longing eyes have been cast toward that sec- 
tion of Maine where stands Ktaadn, and the question often 
asked, Shall we ever visit that noble peak ? In the summer 
of 1886 a preliminary trip to that region was made by our 
Recording Secretary ; and last spring the Council voted that 
the Department of Improvements, through Mr. Lawrence, open 
the old trails and build necessary camps in order to enable 
the Club members to visit the mountain in the following 
August. This was most successfully accomplished, and a full 
report of all the proceedings will be found appended. Another 
appendix, entitled "The Great Range Walk from Glen 
House," by Mr. Francis Blake, will be found interesting. 


The work of the summer, outside of the extensive improye- 
ments in the region of Etaadn, has been of limited amount. 
The old Waterville-Livermore Path has been cut out, blazed, 
and marked with necessary signs; the Mt. Pleasant Path, 
re-opened last year, has also been marked with sign-boards ; 
a new metallic bottle has been placed on Mt. Adams, to 
replace the old, which was broken in an attempt to get it 
out of the ice last January. 

Improvements at Mount Ktaadn, Me. Bt B. B. Lawrence. 

The new region selected, Ktaadn Lake and Basin, weU desenres the dis- 
tinction of being the first region outside of the White Moontains to receive 
the attention of our Department of Improyements. Professor C. £. Ham- 
hn, in his article entitled " Bontes to Ktaadn," correctly stated that future 
travel to the mountain must be largely via Sherman, since the routes by 
water are more expensive, and do not bring one to the Basin, the greatest 
attraction the mountain offers. The route via Ktaadn Lake, the one rec- 
ommended by Professor Hamlin, was, however, badly obstructed by ^ blow- 
downs " a few years ago; and the path over the northern summits, taken 
by several Chib members in 1886, is very long, and does not, without 
much labor, enable one to camp in the Basin. In order to take a Club 
party to the mountain in 1887, it seemed necessary to open a new route; 
and the great success of the excursion proved the wisdom of undertaking 
the work. Between August 15 and September 15 the new route was xuedf 
not only by the Club parties, which comprised ten ladies, nine gentle- 
men, and five guides, but also by twenty-six others, including three ladies. 
People who have lived in Sherman for a lifetime are taking advantage of 
this new and easy way to visit the mountain and its great ravine. 

The road from Sherman to Swift Brook, a distance of four miles, is 
good; but from that point to the Hunt farm on the East Branch of the 
Penobscot, six miles, it is very wet and rough. One mile beyond the 
East Branch the Wassataquoick is forded; and then the road is foUowed 
about nine miles, to a point near the ** Lawler Camp," where a Club sign- 
board points across the river, and states that it is three miles to Ktaadn 
Lake, nine and a half to the Basin, and eleven and a half to the Summit 
Here the Wassataquoick must be forded again, and the buckboard left 
The ten miles from the Hunt farm to this point it is possible to ride, 
though not with much comfort From the river to the lake a bad logging- 
road is followed till within a few rods of the camp, a Club sign marking 
the place where the logging-road is left 

The Ktaadn Lake Camp is situated at the northeast comer of the lake, 
near a small spring. The mountain is visible, but at a point on the shore 


a few rods beyond the oamp a finer view is obtained. From the sand- 
beach on the southwest side of the lake, and from the dam at the south* 
east comer, the most beautiful views are enjoyed ; for the whole mass of 
the mountain is visible, and to the right at the head of the lake several 
peaks of Turner Mountain. The camp is twenty feet long, eight feet 
deep, four feet high in the rear, and six feet in front; it is made of spruce 
logs, and has a roof of bark. 

A sign.board marks the route to the Basin, six and a half miles; and, 
the nature of the country being considered, the path may be called good. 
About two and a half miles from the Lake a great deal of cutting was 
necessary to get through an immense '^ blow-down,'' and the ground at 
this place is very wet. An extensive bog is then crossed diagonally, and 
care should be taken to find the blazed tree which marks the entrance of 
the path on the other side. When the path was reconnoitred, the bog 
could not well be avoided; and fortunately, for it affords a view which is 
remarkably fine, and which far more than compensates for the wet and 
difficult travelling. At a distance from the Lake Camp of about three 
miles, Soaring Brook is reached, and the path follows it up a mile before 
crossing. From here to the Basin, two and a half miles, we follow the old 
path. On this last stretch the ascent is constant, and at times quite steep; 
but the climbing is rewarded, atone point about half-way, by a grand view 
of the mountain, and especially of the North Basin. Three quarters of a 
mile below the Great Basin we pass a sign on the left marking the way up 
Famola, the peak at the northeast end of the crescent which encloses the 
Basin. Five minutes before reaching the camp, a board is passed on the 
right, marking the path to the North Basin. 

Ktaadn Basin Camp commands, perhaps, the grandest view the eastern 
part of our country affords.^ It is by the Basin Pond; and from it one 
looks up to the West Peak, 2,300 feet above, the East Peak, the Narrows, 
and the Cliffs on the side of Famola. The camp is similar to the one at 
the Lake; but it is a little smaller, and not quite so good. On account of 
the altitude, 2,000 feet, it was difficult to obtain suitable timber and bark. 

A few rods behind the camp are two signs. One reads as follows : 
"Ktaadn Lake, ^; North Basin, 1|; and Pamela, 1^ miles." The other 
indicates the path to the summit, which after a few rods strikes the bed 
of a mountain brook, and follows it up to the " Saddle," — the col connect- 
ing the northern summits with the West Peak. A sign indicates the best 
point to leave the ** Saddle " in descending to the Basin. Cairns mark 
the route thence to the West Peak, the highest point of Ktaadn, 5,215 feet 
above the sea. 

Much has been said of the danger incurred in going from the East Peak 
to Famola, along the Narrows and over the Chimney; but having made 
the trip four times, I feel justified in saying that it is perfectly safe. 
Some actual climbing is necessary; and a cloud or gale might render the 

1 See Appalachia, voL v. pL v. 


trip unsafe, especially to a novice. A few cairns mark the way on the 
northern side of Pamola, and especially the place where a path is cut 
through a broad belt of scrub. More cairns lead one thence to the forest 
at the base, and biased trees a few rods farther to the sign ** Pamola," 
which is on the main path connecting the Basin and the Lake. More 
cairns are needed on the side of Pamola; so that, even in a dense doud, 
the path through the belt of scrub may be easily found. 

The path to the North fiasin is well blazed, and has been travelled a 
good deal this summer. Several trees, each with several blazes, mark the 
point where a path turns off to the left and ascends the ridge which divides 
the North Basin from the Great Basin. This latter path passes through 
some scrub and out upon the bare ridge, which is then followed to the 
first North Peak. On this tramp fine views of the two Basins are 
enjoyed. A very fine trip is to make a circuit of the North Basin by 
ascending this dividing ridge, passing over the several northern summits, 
and along the top of the head wall, and descending the ridge north of the 
North Basin. Care should be taken to go nearly to the end of the ridge 
before climbing down into the Basin, as the walls are dangerous farther 
up. There is no path through the scrub, and the bottom of the Basin is 
reached a long distance below the twin ponds, whence the path to the 
camp starts. The trip, though difficult, offers a great variety of fine views. 
A path should be cut connecting the twin ponds with the north ridge. It 
should be added that the distances given above were not obtained by 

The head guide of the party was Clarence R. Peavey, of Sherman, Me. 
He deserves to be well recommended for all those qualities which com- 
bine to make a good guide, hunter, and boatman. Daniel H. Perry and 
Leslie C. Daggett, both of Sherman Mills, Me., may also be recommended. 
Guides and teams, if desired, should be engaged in advance. 

Thb Great Ranob Walk vrobc the Glen House. 
Bt Francis Blake. 

During the winter of 1886-1887 about two million feet of timber were 
cut from the land which lies between the north bank of the West 
Branch of the Peabody River and the base of Mt. Madison; conse- 
quently nearly a mile of the Madison path from Osgood's Falls was 
obliterated and covered with <* jack-straws," so that the superb walk from 
the Glen House to Mt. Washington, via Madison, Adams, Jefferson, and 
Clay, was closed during the past season. 

Late in September the writer took charge of a gang of men, gener- 
ously furnished by the proprietors of tiie Glen House, and opened a new 
path across the logging-tract from Osgood's Falls which joins the old 
path well up on the side of Madison. After leaving the main logging- 


tract the new path is heavily blazed at each of the many Umber-shoots 
which oroBs it on the mountain-side; but if the blazes at Uiese points are 
not kept in sight, the pedestrian may easily go astray. 

At Osgood's Falls a substantial bridge was built across the West 
Branch, and the path thence to the Glen House put in thorough order. 
Hie distance from the Glen House down to the south end of the bridge at 
Osgood's Falls was measured with a Chesterman 100 ft. steel tape, and 
found to be 1.47 miles. The old sign-board reads 1| miles. 

Excursions of the Season of 1886.^ 

Collated bt Geobge C. Mann. 

The May walk to the Middlesex Fells, postponed from May 8, took 
place on May 15. Owing to the uncertainty of the weather, there were 
only about seventy-five members and friends who participated. The party 
went from Oak Grove Station, at about noon, to Hemlock Pond, on the 
shore of which lunch was taken. Thence the Stone Monument was vis- 
ited, and a return made by Hemlock and Shiner Ponds through the 
woods to Spot Pond, along its southern shore and down Forest Street to 
Medf ord, where the cars were taken for Boston at about six o'clock. 

A party of sixty started, at eleven o'clock on the morning of May 22, for 
an excursion to Robin's Hill, in Chelmsford, via Lowell. The weather 
was somewhat threatening; and as the party left the cars a few drops of 
rain fell, but not enough to clear the air, which was quite smoky, the day 
being warm. A walk of a little more than a mile brings one to the sum- 
mit of the hill, which stands alone in the middle of a basin of field and 
woodland, embracing a large portion of Middlesex County. After lunch 
and an hour or two spent upon the summit, nearly all returned to the vil- 
lage by a walk through the woods, and through the old burying-ground, 
whose stones bear some interesting and curious inscriptions. Boston was 
reached at 5.30 p. m. 

On Saturday, June 5, the Club made an excursion to Mt. Wachusett. 
Special cars furnished by the Fitchburg Railroad carried one hundred and 
thirty-nine persons to Fitchburg. Here barges were taken, and the 
mountain was reached at noon. Many walked to the top, but the barges 
carried up all who preferred to ride. The day was sunny and comfort- 
ably warm. The view was good, except for distant objects. A few re- 
mained over Sunday at the hotel on the summit; the rest reached Boston 
safely at 8 p. m. 

> For the exconions of the season of 1887, see Appalacbia, vol v. no. 8. 


The ViaGDOA ezeunioB was the aeeond ezounioD Uken by the Clnb 
the objective point of which laj outBide the limits of New England; and 
in point of miles traTelled (1,760) it is by far the most extended which 
has as yet been undertaken. The party was twenty-five in number, — 
seventeen members, and eight others. They left Boston by the Fall 
River route on Monday efwung, June li, making no stop b^ore reach- 
ing Washington on the following afternoon. On the morning of Wednes- 
day they set out for Staunton in a special car furnished Uirough the 
courtesy of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad, to the end of their road. 

The party had intended to ascend Mt. Rogers; but as the state of the 
roads was very questionable, as no one had been up the mountain since 
the preceding autumn, and as practically no arrangements had been 
made towards an ascent, the weather on Thursday morning proving un- 
favorable, the ascent was abandoned. The forenoon freight having 
waited for the car, the day was spent riding across the valley of Virginia 
in a very delightful fashion; and Whitk Sulphus Springs was reached 
in time for tea. 

Friday (18th), Saturday, and Sunday were spent at this beautiful 
place, where the party were practicaUy tiie only guests; and many rides, 
drives, and walks were taken in the vicinity. On Saturday afternoon 
seven of the gentlemen walked to the summit of Mt. Kate (8,500 feet), 
at White Sulphur, taking the projected carriage-road, an easy grade^ 
which goes almost to the top ; thence by path to the lake or swamp which 
lies near the highest point The descent was over the debris-covered 
slope of Rattlesnake Ledges, where, it was learned, a month later rattle- 
snakes would have been found by the hundred; thence over one of the 
spurs of Mt. Kate into the carriage-road. The trip is an easy one, and 
satisfactory in every way, as to views and landscapes. 

Saturday morning a party of four separated from the rest, going into 
the Warm Spring region, where an ascent on horseback of Warm Spring 
Mountain (3,500 feet) was made, and the main party rejoined at Natu- 
ral Bridge. 

On Monday, June 21, travel was continued, by seventeen, from White 
Sulphur down the valley of the New River to Kanawha Falls, return- 
ing on Tuesday to and by White Sulphur to Clifton Forge, and thence, by 
the Richmond and Alleghany Railroad, to Natural Bridge. Rainy 
weather interfered somewhat with the pleasure at Natural Bridge. 

On Thursday a start was made homeward by the Shenandoah Valley 
Railroad, seventeen stopping at Waynesboro Junction and visiting the 
Mountain Top Hotel, at the ridge of Rock Fish Gap (about 2,000 feet). 
Here the night was spent at a view-point not to be excelled in Virginia. 
Friday was devoted to Humpback, the party taking teams for a diive 
along the crest of the Blue Ridge for some miles, then up as far on the 
mountain as the fallen trees would permit. Twelve of the company as- 
cended to the Knob, almost at the summit, from which the views over the 
Shenandoah Valley are superb. The return was made to a flag-station 

sxcnssiONs. 161 

on the railroad, where the train was taken for Litsat. Friday evening 
was spent at the cave, and the journey continued northward on Satorday 
morning. The party did not return to Boston together. 

Ahout seyenty-five members and friends left Boston on Thursday, July 
1, at 9.30 ▲. M., for a week on the summit of Mt. Washington. Addi- 
tions to the party brought the number up to one hundred and one on Sat- 
urday night; the total was one hundred and five. The day was warm ; but 
after the Fabyan House was reached the air became fresher, and the 
distant summits, as far as the Green Mountains in Vermont, were plainly 
seen. Three trains were required to take the party and their ba£^;age up 
the Mt. Washington Railway. 

On Friday, eight ascended the mountain from the railroad above the 
Fabyan House, by the old Mt. Pleasant path, which had been cleared for 
the occasion. The majority descended by the Crawford bridle-path to 
Mt. Pleasant, where the two companies joined and lunched, all return- 
ing to the summit. Sixty-six persons were in this party during the day. 
In the evening Professor N. S. Shaler made some interesting remarks 
upon **The Formation of Mountains." 

On Saturday, a company of about sixty, one half of them ladies, left 
the top, at 10 a. m., for Tuckkrman's Ravine. The Snow Arch was 
reached about 12 o'clock, and lunch taken. After an hour or two spent 
here, the main party returned directly to the summit. Some descended 
as far as Hermit Lake, re-ascending from there; while a smaller number 
continued down the Raymond Path to the carriage-road, and then walked 
up the road to the summit. In the evening Professor W. G. Farlow gave 
a delightful talk on the flowers gathered during the day. 

No excursion was arranged for Sunday, but various walks were taken. 

On Monday, July 5, a party of sixty left the Summit House, at 7 a. m., 
by the cars as far as Gulf Station, and thence across the col to Mt. Clat. 
Fifty continued to Mt. Jefferson and Spaulding's Spring, where the 
majority remained for lunch. Sixteen went to Mt. Adams, which was 
reached just before noon, and three pushed on to the summit of Mt. 
Madison, overtaking the rest on the return before the cars were taken at 
about 6 o'clock. Four visited the Castellated Ridge on Jefferson, and 
arrived at the summit at 9.15 p. m., just as a party was about to start 
with lanterns and hot coffee in search of them. 

On Tuesday, twenty-three rode down the mountain to the Glen House, 
and visited Glen Ellis Falls and the Crystal Cascade, returning 
at 7.30 p. M. In the afternoon about thirty visited the Alpine Garden, 
Nelson Crag, and the heads of Huntington's and Tuckerraan's Ravines. 
In the evening Professor Farlow read a paper on '* Mountain Floras." 

Wednesday dawned with the wind blowing at the rate of seventy-five 

miles an hour, but this did not deter thirty-two of the company from 

making an excursion to Boott's Spur, by the way of the old Davis Path. 

The day was pleasantly spent in climbing about the heads of Tuckerman's 



Ravine, the Ravine of the Slides, and Oakes' Gull On the same day a 
party of three visited the Great Gulf. Towards night light doads — 
the first since the beginning of the excursion — dung to the summit, and 
there were slight showers in the evening and night. The weather during 
the whole week was remarkable for the height and equableness of the tem- 
perature, and for the lack of high wind, until Wednesday. The maxi- 
mum temperature for the whole week was from 51^ to 67^ (within two 
degrees of the highest on record) ; and the minimum, from Saturday till 
Wednesday, varied only two degrees, from 51^ to 63^. No rain fell dur- 
ing the week, with the exception of the shower on Wednesday night; and 
excepting for distant views the atmospheric conditions could not have 
been better. 

Thursday morning the party were rewarded for an early awakening by 
a magnificent sunrise, with grand cloud effects from heavy masses of 
vapor clinging to all the surrounding peaks. It was the day for the 
breaking up of the excursion, and the larger number took the morning 
train for the Fabyan House and Boston. Twelve reached Jefferson by a 
walk over Mts. Clay and Jefferson and down the Castellated Ridge; 
five went down the Mt. Pleasant Path, and a few stayed until Friday. 

The party for the Adirondaoks, thirty-eeven in number, left Boston at 
10.45 A. M. on Friday, September 8. The run by way of Fitchburg, Bel- 
lows Falls, Rutland, and Whitehall was greatly enjoyed ; and just at dusk 
the train reached Westport. Stages were in waiting, which carried the 
party comfortably to the Winsor House, Elizabethtown. After a late sup- 
per, the company assembled in the parlor and listened to an address by 
Mr. Verplanck Colvin, Superintendent of the Adirondack Survey, who, 
after warmly greeting the visitors, described the chief geological features 
of the region. 

On Saturday, ten of the gentlemen ascended Mt. Hurricane, and en- 
joyed their first near view of the Adirondack peaks, through a somewhat 
hazy atmosphere ; then descended over the southerly slope to the road in 
Keene, where they were taken up by the carriages, which had left the 
Winsor House at 2 p. m. with the rest of the party. By 6 o'clock all had 
arrived at Beede's, the headquarters for the next four days. The next 
day — Sunday — was spent chiefly as a day of rest, though many en- 
joyed shorter or longer walks in the neighborhood. The party had now 
been increased to forty-five, by additions since reaching the mountains. 

On Monday all started, with thirteen guides, for the Ausarlb Ponds. 
The beautiful glen of Rainbow Falls was visited; and here the party 
lunched, after which six returned to the hotel, and the others proceeded 
up the lower pond, visiting the Ice Cave, along the mile of carry to the 
upper pond, and to the main camp on the western shore. Four other 
camps at various points on the margin of the lake were also occupied as 
sleeping-places, but all ate at the table set at the main camp. The perfect 
weather continued; and the moon, which was increasing to the full, lent 
a new charm to the scenery. 

ExcFRSioys. 163 

Breakfast was served at 6.15 on Tuesday, the day chosen for the ascent 
of Mt. Mascy. By 7.30 a party of twenty — more than half ladies — 
embarked in the boats, and were rowed two and a half miles to the foot of 
the trail, much of the way through the windings of a ** still-water." The 
trail is rather more than six miles in length ; however, hot as the day was, 
all had reached the summit by two o'clock. The view was exquisite; that 
to the south being pronounced similar and perhaps equal in beauty to the 
famous view from Mt. Bond. Descending in the same loose order as in 
the ascent, the last group reached the boats at dusk. Some half-dozen of 
the party left at the camp had returned to Beede's during the day. 

The morning of Wednesday was spent quietly at the lake, and after 
dinner the return was made to the hotel. The guides declared that they 
had never enjoyed serving a party so much as this one, — the largest by 
far that had ever camped in the region, — and the willingness of their 
service was ample guaranty of their sincerity. 

The next morning (Thursday), the company left Beede's, under a 
cloudy sky, for Lakk Placid. On the way the majority visited the 
grave of John Brown, on a lonely hillside farm some distance from the 
stage-road. The Stevens House was the headquarters of the excursion 
until Saturday morning. 

Friday proving intensely warm and sultry, but two of the gentlemen 
summoned courage to undertake the ascent of Whitbface, which they 
found very interesting. A proposed moonlight row on Lake Placid was 
prevented by a sudden tempest, which, however, compensated for the 
loss inflicted, by its brilliant play of lightning, and by laying the dust 
for the thirty -nine miles of staging on the morrow. 

At 9.30 on Saturday the company, filling two large tally-ho coaches, 
was off for the Lake View House and Ausable Chasm. The road lay 
through the Wilmington Notch and along the course of the Ausable 
River to Keeseville. Fine retrospective views of ** old Whiteface," and 
glimpses ahead of Mt. Mansfield and Gamers Hump, were enjoyed. 

The next day was overcast, and in the afternoon came the first rain 
that had fallen by day since the excursion began; but the party had 
already enjoyed a visit, with sufficient leisure, to the remarkable Au- 
sable Chasm. 

Monday morning dawned fairly, and soon all were summoned to wit- 
ness a magnificent sunrise. After' an early breakfast the party was taken 
by stage to Port Kent; thence by the <* Vermont ' across Lake Cham- 
plain to Burlington. By the kindness of Mr. Cummings, of the Central 
Vermont Railroad, they were enabled — although the excursion ticket 
provided otherwise — to attach their car to the fast express, via White 
River Junction and the Lowell Railroad, and to reach Boston at 7.45 p. m. 

On September 18, a party of thirty left Boston by the Fitchburg Rail- 
road, reaching Groton by special train from Ayer Junction. The fore- 
noon was devoted to a walk, embracing the ascent of Chestnut and 


Gibbet Hills; and the afternoon to the aootherly part of the town, some 
of the oompaoy also visiting the sommit of Prospect HilL The ladies of 
Groton prepared a sumptnoos collation at noon, in the vestry of the Uni- 
tarian Church. Eqwcial hospitalities were extended to the party by Mrs. 
B. W. Dix, Mrs. James Lawrence, Ex-Governor Boatwell, and othen. 
Dr. Samuel A. Green printed a monograph on the geographical features 
of Groton, for the use of the visitors. The party left at five o'clock for 

On Saturday, October 9, a party of twoity-nine, increased by later ad- 
ditions, left Boston by the Fitchburg Railroad, for Mt. Toby, via Miller's 
Falls and the New London Northern Railroad. Owing to an accident to 
the locomotive, they did not arrive at Mt Toby station until about one 
o'clock. After lunching at the picnic-ground at the base of the moun- 
tain, thirty-four made the ascent; some by the path, others by the old 
carriage- road, about two miles in length. The view is somewhat ob- 
structed by trees, and was further limited by the hazy atmosphere of a 
warm fall day; but the autumn foliage was at its best, and the western 
view into the Connecticut valley repaid the labor of the ascent. Five 
descended the western slope to Sunderland and South Deerfield, where 
Sunday was spent. The remainder of the party returned to the eastern 
base, and took wagons for a drive of five miles, as the sun was setting, 
to Montague, where the can were taken for Boston, arriving there at 
10 p. M. 

November 20, a party of eighty-four Appalachians and friends passed 
by **the meadows bare and brown" to the famous Wayside Inn, in 
Sudbury. A couple of hours were spent in the old buildings examining 
the rooms and objects of interest; dinner was taken in the parlor where, 
as the poet represents, the ** tales " were told; and then the party ascended 
KoBscoT Hill. The day, though late in the fall, was very warm and 
sunny ; and it was not till the late afternoon that the groups, scattered 
here and there over the hill, turned their steps toward home, which was 
reached after an hour's railroad ride. 

In addition to the excursions, there were thirteen Saturday afternoon 
Outings, as follows : Middlesex Fells (2) ; Blue Hills (2) ; Prospect HiU, 
Waltham; Doublet Hill; Hammond's Pond; Bellevue Hill; Arlington 
Heights; Franklin Park; College Hill and Horn Fond Mountain; Forbes 
Hill, Milton; and Castle Rock, Stoneham. 


Proceedings of the Club. 

Jaly 1-8, 1887. — Twenty-second Field Meeting. 
Held at the Crawford House, White Mountains, N. H. 

On Friday evening, July 1, a meeting was held in the hotel parlor, 
with Vice-President Pitman in the chair. Eighty persons were present. 

Professor J. W. Chickering, Jr., gave an interesting paper on Alaska, 
containing valuable comparative statistics, and a description of the grand 
mountain and glacier scenery. There is no more delightful cruising- 
ground than the Alaskan archipelago. 

Mr. J. Rayner Edmands spoke of the topographical work of the Club, 
and especially of the White Mountain map just published. He also 
alluded to papers which would soon appear in print, — one on the number- 
ing of summits, and another on the system of characters used to distin- 
guish different kinds of summits. (See p. 121.) 

Mr. F. O. Carpenter made announcements concerning the excursions 
planned in connection with the Field Meeting. 

Wednesday evening, July 6, Professor C. £. Fay made some interest- 
ing remarks concerning the early days of the Club, and especially of the 
two previous ascents of Carrigain by the Club. 

October 12, 1887. — Eighty-sixth Corporate Meeting. 
Professor William H. Niles was elected Chairman pro tern. 

Sixty-five persons were present. The records of the meetings in June 
and July were read and approved. The candidates for membership 
nominated June 8, four in number, were elected. Twenty nominations 
were presented. 

Professor E. C. Pickering presented a paper entitled "Colorado Moun- 
tains from an Astronomical Standpoint." He treated the subject with 
reference to the accessibility of the mountains. After mentioning the 
high passes which are crossed by railroads, he described Pike's Peak and 
the ridges near it. He also spoke of his work with the micrometer level, 
and stated that he expected valuable results from the observations. The 
paper was followed by a short discussion on the effects produced upon the 
physical system by the rarified atmosphere at high altitudes. Mr. R. B. 
J^wrence described his ascent of Pike's Peak, April 7, 1887. 

Professor C. E. Fay presented a paper written by Mr. F. H. Chapin, 
entitled "First Ascent of a Glacier on Mummy Mountain in Colorado." 
(See p. 1.) The author was the first to show this to be a genuine gla- 
cier. His description was illustrated by excellent photographs. 


KoTember 9, 1887. — Eigbty-seyenth Corporate Meeting. 
President Hyatt in the chair. 

Sixty persons were present. The records of the last meeting were 
read and approved. The candidates for membership nominated at the 
last meeting, twenty in number, were elected. Seven nominations were 

It was voted that the President be requested to appoint a committee of 
three to nominate officers for the ensuing year. The President appointed 
Professor William H. Niles, Mr. R. F. Curtis, and Professor C. E. Fay. 
It was then voted that two ladies be added to the committee, and Mrs. 
M. £. MacKaye and Miss M. A. Knowles were appointed. 

Mr. J. Walter Fewkes presented a paper entitled ** A Trip to the 
Santa Barbara Islands." He mentioned the early discoveries, and then 
described the islands, dwelling especially upon the Star Cafion, subma- 
rine grottos. Ragged Mountain, and Punta Diablo. The rocks seemed 
to be volcanic ; and the islands ara possibly the remains of a continent, 
since they possess one species of animals and two of plants which are not 
found elsewhere. The paper was illustrated by beautiful drawings of sea 
plants and animals. 

Mr. F. O. Carpenter presented his report as Councillor of Exploration. 
(See p. 146.) 

A paper by Mr. S. H. Scudder, entitled ** The White Mountains as a 
Home for Butterflies " (see p. 13), was read by Mr. George Dimmock. 
The most interesting species mentioned were the two Alpine butterflies 
(^(Eneis semidea and Brenthis montinus), one found on the rocky summits 
and the other in the region of scrub. 

Mr. Dimmock also presented his report as Councillor of Natural History. 
(See p. 143.) 

November 14, 1887 (Evening). — Special Meeting. 
Vice-President Pitman in the chair. 

One hundred and thirty persons were present. 

Mr. F. O. Carpenter presented a paper entitled ** A Day and Night on 
the Benton Range." (See p. 128.) 

Miss M. A. J. Frothingham gave an account of the Club trip to Ktaadn; 
and by request the stereopticon views of Ktaadn, shown May 20, were 
repeated. The report of improvements made by the Club at Ktaadn was 
presented. (See p. 150.) 

December 5, 1887 (Evening). ^Special Meeting. 

The Recording Secretary in the chair. 

One hundred and forty persons were present. 

Professor G. Frederick Wright, of Oberlin, Ohio, a former member of 
the Club, presented a paper entitled ** A Month with an Alaskan Gla- 


tier." About one hundred lantern yiews were thrown upon the screen, 
Ulofltrating the villagefi and inhabitants of the territory, and its wonder- 
.ul mountain and glacier scenery. Many views of the Muir glacier were 
liven. By the side of this the party camped, and as a result of l^eir 
observations found that the central portion of the ice moved sixty-five to 
^venty-two feet per day. 

December 14, 1887. — Eighty-eighth Corporate Meeting 
President Hyatt in the chair. 

Fifty persons were present. The records of the last regular and two 
special meetings were read and approved. The candidates for member- 
ship nominated at the last regular meeting, seven in number, were 
elected. Five nominations were presented. 

It was voted to request the President to appoint a Committee on the 
Annual Social Meeting, consisting of three, with power to fill vacancies 
and add to their number. The I^'esident appointed Professor C. £. Fay, 
Mr. F. W. Freeborn, and Miss L. H. Morse. 

It was voted to request the President to appoint an Auditing Committee 
of three ; and Mr. R. F. Curtis, Miss S. G. Rogers, and Mrs. D. L. Yiles 
were appointed. 

A paper by Professor W. M. Davis, entitled ** The Physical Geography 
of New England," was read by Professor W. O. Crosby. The topogra- 
phy of the section was described at length, with particular reference to 
the different valleys and mountain-ranges. The writer also mentioned 
the various ways in which glacial action has affected the physical features. 

The report of the Committee on Field Meetings and Excursions was 
presented by Mr. George C. Mann. He gave statistics drawn from the 
excursions of 1887, and from these deduced valuable conclusions and 
suggestions concerning the management of the Club excursions. 

Professor Alfred £. Burton presented his report as Councillor of Topog- 
raphy (see p. 144), and described the work done by himself and two 
assistants between July 20 and September 18, on and about Moosilauke 
Mountain, N. U. He also exhibited two tracings, wliich showed the 
character of the work accomplished. 

The report of Mr. I. Y. Chubbuck, Councillor of Improvements, was 
read. (See p. 165.) 

December 16, 1887 (Evening). — Special Meeting. 

By request of several members a meeting was held at the residence of 
Miss S. M. Barstow, Brooklyn, N. Y. ; and Mr. Rosewell B. Lawrence 
exhibited the stereopticon views of Ktaadn, gave an account of the Club 
trip to that mountain last summer, and explained the work of the Depart- 
ment of Improvements in that vicinity. An opportunity was given to 
examine Miss Barstow 's Ktaadn sketches. Forty persons were present, 
and nearly all remained for social intercourse after the meeting. 


jAnnarj 3, 1888 (EveDing). -^ Special Meeting. 
President Hyatt in the chair. 

About one hundred and thirty persons were present. 

Professor David P. Todd, Director of Amherst College Obseiratory, 
gave a lecture entitled ** The Ascent of Fuji San, Japan." He first 
showed twenty-five lantern views iUustrating scenery on the Canadian 
Pacific Railway, and especially crossing the four ranges of mountains in 
the West. He mentioned the work of the Eclipse Expedition last summer 
sent to Japan under his charge by the National Academy of Sciences at 
Washington. The ascent of Fuji San was undertaken with the advice of 
Professor £. C. Pickering and at the expense of the Boyden Astronomical 
Fund. Twenty-five views illustrated the scenery on and near the sacred 
volcano, several of them showing the mountain at a distance of ten to 
twenty miles, and others showing the crater. The situation and charac- 
ter of the mountain were described, and also the views enjoyed from the 
summit The speaker mentioned the different forms of mountain sick- 
ness from which the members of his party suffered. The night spent on 
the summit was very clear, so that valuable and satisfactory astronomical 
observations were made. 

January 11, 1888. — Eighty^^inth (Annual) Corporate Meeting. 
Mr. George C. Mann in the chair. 

Fifty-five persons were present The records of the last three meetings 
were read and approved. The candidates nominated for membership at 
the last regular meeting, five in number, were elected. Three nomina- 
tions were presented. 

The annual reports of the Recording and Corresponding Secretaries and 
Treasurer were read. The Trustees then presented their first annual re- 
port, and the report of the Auditing Committee was given. 

On motion of Professor W. H. Niles it was voted that the thanks of the 
Club be extended to Mr. Charles W. Kennard, for his kindness in giving 
his services as Treasurer during the absence of Mr. Jones, the latter part 
of the year. 

Professor William H. Niles, as chairman of th^ Committee on Nomi- 
nations, after making some explanatory remarks concerning the changes 
which seemed necessary or advisable, presented the following list: Presi- 
dent, Augustus E. Scott, Lexington; Vice-President, Rest F. Curtis, 
Boston; Recording Secretary, Rosewell B. Lawrence, Medford; Corre- 
sponding Secretary, Frank W. Freeborn, Boston; Treasurer, John E. 
Alden, Newton; Councillors: Natural History, George Dimmock, Cam- 
bridge; Topography, George H. Barton, Rozbury; Art, John Ritchie, Jr., 


BostoD; Exploration, Frank O. Carpenter, Boston; Improyements, Fred- 
erick D. Allen, Cambridge; Trustee (for three years), Charles W. Keu- 
nard, Boston. 

During the balloting the Recording Secretary called the attention of 
the meeting to a mistake upon the map in Appa^lachia, Vol. Y. No. 1. 
The path from the Glen House to Mt. Madison should be called the ** Os- 
good Path," and not the '« Watson Path." 

There was also presented the final report of the Committee on Summer 
School of Geodesy and Topography, announcing that the want of such a 
school had been supplied by the establishment of the following courses: 
Columbia College provides a course in surveying for its students in the 
School of Mines during the summer vacation following the secoud year of 
the course ; a similar course in practical geodesy is prescribed the fol- 
lowing year for students in the department of civil engineering ; the 
Massachusetts Institute of Technology aUo offers a course in geodesy and 
topography, open not only to its own students, but also to other persons 
qualified to pursue it 

The balloting for ofiicers resulted in the unanimous election of those 
nominated, thirty-eight ballots being cast. President Scott then took the 

Miss L. S. Davis presented an account of the ceremonies attending the 
dedication of the monument to De Sauasure at Chamonix. The beau- 
tiful and appropriate statue was described, and a fine photograph of it, 
framed, was presented to the Club by Miss Davis. A vote of thanks was 
passed for the gift. 

Mr. Lucius L. Hubbard described the convention of the German and 
Austrian Alpine Club at Villach in August, 1885, attended by him as a 
delegate of the Appalachian Mountain Club. He gave an account of the 
business proceedings and of the various excursions, described the Club and 
the beautiful country in which the convention was held, and laid special 
emphasis upon the very complimentary reception which he received. 

February 8, 1888 (Evening). —Ninetieth Corporate Meeting. 
President Scott in the chair. 

One hundred and twenty-five persons were present The records of the 
last meeting were read and approved. The candidates nominated for 
membership at the last meeting, three in number, were elected. Two 
nominations were presented. 

Mr. F. H. Chapin read a paper entitled ** Ascents in the Front Range, 
Colorado." About sixty stereopticon views from Mr. Chapin's negatives 
were shown, illustrating scenery near Pike's Peak and in Estes Park, and 
especially the precipice ou Long's Peak and the Hallett Glacier on Mummy 


March U, 1888. — Ninetj-first Corporate Meeting. 
President Soott in the chair. 

Ninety persons were present. The records of the last meeting were 
read and approved. The candidates nominated for membership at the 
last meeting, two in number, were elected. Seven nominations were 

Mr. Percival Lowell presented a very interesting paper entitled *' An 
Ascent of Shirane San, Japan." (See p. 87.) 

A panoramic photograph of the view from Mt. Hamilton, Cal., pre- 
sented to the Club by Professor Edward S. Holden, Director of the Lick 
Observatory, was exhibited. Professor Holden *s letter accompanying the 
gift was read, and several lantern views were siiowu illustrating the moun- 
tain and the Observatory. Mr. R. B. Lawrence gave a short account of 
his visit to the Observatory in March, 1887. Mr. Alvan 6. Clark told of 
his late visit there, to put in position the object-glass of the great tele- 
scope, and mentioned his view of the rings of Saturn and his discovery of 
a new star in the trapezium of Orion. 

March 20, 1888 (Evening). — Special Meeting. 
President Scott in the chair. 

About one hundred persons were present. 

Mr. J. Ritchie, Jr., gave an account of the winter trip to Jackson, 
N. H. Many incidents were i*elated showing how delightful and com- 
fortable, as well as interesting, a winter trip can be. Trips on snow- 
shoes were made into Carter Notch, to the summits of Mt. Willard, 
and Tin, Doublehead, and Iron Mountains. The scenery was finer than 
in summer, and in some respects the travelling much easier. 

Mr. Joseph H. Sears presented a paper entitled ** A Tnp through the 
Jotunheim Mountains, Norway.'* He described the paths and huts of 
the Norske Turistforening, and the snow-fields and rocky peaks. The 
ascent of one mountain, Kirken, was particularly interesting, being per- 
haps the first. The narrative of the trip was illustrated by the stereop- 
ticon, the views of the Vettisfos, Bessvand, Goldho-piggen and Kirken 
being specially fine. 

April 11, 1888. — Ninety-second Corporate Meeting. 
President Scott in the chair. 

About one hundred persons were present. 

The records of the last two meetings were read and approved. The 
candidates for membership nominated at the last regular meeting, seven 
in number, were elected. Three nominations were presented. 

Mrs. Isabel C. Barrows read an abstract of a paper by Henry Ballantine, 
of Bombay, India, entitled '* A Trip in the Himalayas, to the Land of 


Nepal and the Ghoorkas." Mr. BaUantine had a permit from the British 
Resident at Khatmandu to enter the territory of Nepal, though he was 
discouraged from attempting the difficult, dangerous journey. He was 
not, however, to be deterred, but set out from CiJcutta upon his hazardous 
trip, with his son, a lad of thirteen. Supplies of food, cooking-utensils, 
and bedding were taken, and a Nepalese servant engaged. The trip 
began the last day of October. For one day and night they travelled by 
narrow-gauge railroad; after that their goods were carried by coolies, 
while they walked or rode on such animals as they could find, for the one 
hundred miles' journey through the foot-hills and over the passes of the 
Himalayas. After various adventures and exposures they reached Khat- 
mandu, in a week from the time they left Calcutta, the distance being 
017 miles. On the way they had various views of Mt. Everest, the 
height of which Mr. Ballantine gives as about 29,000 feet. Other moun- 
tains visible were Gosian Than, about 26,000; Yassa, 24,000; Matsiputra, 
24,400; and Dewalgiri, 26,800; besides scores of others whose names are 
not given. Descriptions of Khatmandu and of the wonderful carvings 
there were also given. Mr. Ballantine was there during a revolution in 
which the Prime Minister was assassinated; but he was allowed to make 
such investigations as he desired, and to return without obstruction to 

In 1884, 1885, and 1886, Mr. George H. Witherle made exploring trips 
to Mt. Ktaadn, the Sourdnahunk Mountains, and the region between. 
An account of these explorations, condensed from Mr. Witherle's letters, 
was presented by Mr. R. B. Lawrence. (See p. 147.) 

May 9, 1888. —Ninety- third Corporate Meeting. 
Vice-President Curtis in the chair. 

Seventy-five persons were present. The records of the last meeting 
were read and approved. The candidates for membership nominated at 
the last meeting, three in number, were elected. Thirty-five nominations 
were presented. 

Professor Frederic D. Allen, Councillor of Improvements, explained 
the plan of the Council to erect a hut at Madison Spring, and invited 
subscriptions for^the work. 

Miss M. A. J. Frothingham read a paper written by Mr. W. H. Peek, 
describing explorations made by himself and friends on the Pilot Range 
in 1887. Sketches illustrating the trip were placed upon the black- 

Miss Annie H. Ryder presented a paper entitled ** In the Yellowstone 
National Park." The beautiful and wonderful scenes were graphically 

172 OFFICERS FOR 1888. 

June 18, 188a ^ Ninety-fourth Corponia Meeting* 
President Soott in the chair. 

Eighty persons were present. The candidates for membership nomi- 
nated at the last meeting, thirty-five in number, were elected. Four 
nominations were presented. 

A paper on '* Long's Peak, Colorado," by Mr. F. H. Chapin, was read 
by Professor C. £. Fay. Twenty-one lantern illustrations were given. 

Five water-color sketches of scenery at Mt. Ktaadn, Me., the work 
of Miss S. M. Barstow and presented by her to the Club, were exhibited. 

Miss L. A. Putnam presented a paper entitled '* The Crater of Mt. 
Misery, St. Kitts." This ascent proved one of the attractions of a voyage 
to the West Indies. The mountain and its interesting crater were de- 
scribed, and special emphasis was laid upon the beauty and luxuriance of 
the vegetation. 

Officers for 1888. 

Augustus £. Scott, Equitable Building, Boston. 

Rest F. Curtis, 146 Falmouth Street, Boston. 

Recording Secretary, 
RosEWELL B. Lawrence, 28 Court Street, Room 80, Boston. 

Corresponding Secretary, 
Frank W. Freeborn, 9 Park Street, Room 17, Boston. 

John £. Alden, 18 Post Office Square, Boston. 

Natural History, GIeoroe Dimmock, Cambridge. 
Topography, George H. Barton, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 

Art, John Ritchie, Jr., Box 2725, Boston. 
Exploration, Frank O. Carpenter, 43 Concord Square, Boston. 
Improvements, Frederick D. Allen, Cambridge. 

Trustees of the Permanent Fund, 

William H. Niles. Augustus E. Scott. 

Charles W. Kennard. 


Membera added since December 16, 1886. 


Colvin, Yerplanck, Albany, N. Y, 
Keltie, J. Scott, London, England. 
Raimondi, Antonio, Lima, Peru. 
Richthofen, Ferdinand yon, Berlin, Grermany. 


Abbot, Philip Stanley, Cambridge. 
Adams, George H., Boston. 
Ames, Mrs. Charles H., Boston. 
Atwood, Miss Eunice C, Roxbury. 

Babson, Robert Edward, Boston. 
Barrett, Miss Caroline S., Maiden. 
Barrett, Harry H., Maiden. 
Beale, Charles E., Boston. 
Beaman, William M., Charlestown. 
Bethmann, Miss Frieda A. M., 

South Boston. 
Bigelow, Charles £., Boston. 
Bigelow, Mrs. S. A., Boston. 
Blacker, Miss Eliza F., Allston. 
Blair, Thomas H., Boston. 
Blake, John Bapst, Boston. 
Blake, Mrs. John Bapst, Boston. 
Bosworth, Miss Mary E., Somer- 

Brainard, John B., Boston. 
Brainerd, Ezra, Middlebury, Vt 
Brookings, Barden S., Boston. 
Brown, Mrs. Francis H., Boston. 
Bullock, Rufus A., Boston. 

Cades, William H., Charlestown. 
Carson, Howard A., Boston. 
Cassidy, Miss Georgia A., Brook- 
lyn, N. Y. 
Chamberlin, Mrs. Daniel, Boston. 
Chase, Paul Dudley, New York. 
Chubbuck, Mrs. I. Y., Roxbury. 
Clarke, Miss Rebecca H., Roxbury. 

Clifford, H. E. H., Boston. 
CoUar, W. C, Roxbury. 
Cousins, Frank, Salem. 
Craig, Wm. C, West Medford. 
Craig, Mrs. Wm. C, West Medford. 
Cross, George N., Exeter, N. H. 

Damon, Lindsay T., Boston. 
Daniell, Miss Susan M., Dorchester. 
Davis, Miss Lillie J., Melrose. 
Davis, Walter R., Newton. 
Davis, Mrs. Walter R., Newton. 
Dodd, Mrs. J. A., Boston. 

Eliot, Charles, Boston. 
Everett, Thomas B., Boston. 

Filene, A. Lincoln, Boston. 

Fowler, Wm. P., Boston. 

Fox, Miss Kate W., JafErey, N. H. 

Gauss, John D. H., Salem. 
Gilbreth, Miss Mary E., Boston. 
Gilman, Edwin C, Boston. 
Godfrey, Charles E., Providence, 

R. I. 
Goodwin, James W., Haverhill. 
Grover, Rev. Richard B., Boston. 

Hall, Isaac P., Boston. 
Hathaway, Miss E. B., Boston. 
Hayden, Everett, Washington, 

D. C. 
Hicks, Mrs. Mary Dana, Boston. 


Hilly Mrs. Janet B., Newton. 
Hunkins, Mrs. Anna H., Somer- 

Hutchins, Mrs. Clara B., West 


Johnson, Miss Amelia 6., Maiden. 

.Kellogg, Brainard, Brooklyn, N. Y. 

La Ban, Miss Bertha, Brookline. 
Leighton, Royal B., Boston. 
Lowell, Perciral, Boston. 

Matchett, Miss Clara £., Allston. 
Merriam, Rev. Edmund F., Boston. 
Merrihew, Edward T., Boston. 
Merritt, Mrs. Fercival, Boston. 
Morrill, Miss Elvira, Somerrille. 
Morrill, Miss Lydia £., Somenrille. 
Munroe, Edmund S., Englewood, 

Newhall, Miss Helen E., Roxbury. 
Norton, Miss Rachel, Roxbury. 

Page, Charles J., Boston. 

Parsons, Albert Stevens, Lexing- 

Phillips, Miss Sarah A. W., An- 

Porter, Charles W., Lynn. 

Purinton, Mrs. James, Boston. 

Rand, Miss Jean T., Cambridge. 
Reed, Beverly S., Boston. 
Rider, Miss Lilla A., Aubumdale. 
Ripley, Mrs. Nathaniel L., Newton. 
Ritchie, Mrs. John, Jr., Boston. 
Rollins, George W., Roxbury. 

Rnmrill, William S., Roxbury. 
Runels, Charles, Lowell. 
Russell, Walter H., Somerville. 

Sampson, Ezra W., NewtonviUe. 

Sawin, George W., Cambridge. 

Schermerhom, George F., Ruther- 
ford, N. J. 

Serrat, William D., Boston. 

Shaler, N. S., Cambridge. 

Shillaber, Miss Katharine B., Boa- 

Silver, Miss E. C, Roxbury. 

Spinney, W. A., West Newton. 

Stevens, Miss Mary K., Boston. 

Stratton, Miss Martha L., Cam- 

Sweetser, Miss Effie C, Wobum. 

Sylvester, Herbert F., NewtonviUe. 

Sylvester, Wm. H., NewtonviUe. 

Tower, Mrs. Abbie A., So. Boston. 
Towne, Miss Angle B., NewtonviUe. 
Turner, Miss Helen, Boston. 

Ward, Mrs. Elizabeth B.,^ 

Waters, Edwin F., Boston. 

Weis, Frank M., Boston. 

Wheeler, Mrs. Cora Stuart, Boston. 

Wheelwright, Miss S. D. O., Rox- 

Whiting, Miss Anna M., Boston. 

Whiting, George O., Lexington. 

Whiting, Mrs. Geo. O., Lexington. 

Willcox, Miss Ella Goodenow, 

Williams, Edward H., Jamaica 

WiUiams, R. P., Boston. 

1 The names of Life-Members are printed in snudl capitals. 






Vol. V. BOSTON, DECEMBER, 1888. No. 3. 

Ypsilon Peak. 

Bt Frederick H. Chapin. 

Read Dm. 10,1888. 

Though making many climbs among the higher peaks of 
Northern Colorado, and giving much study and investigation 
to the upper snows, not all of the time of two joyous summers 
in Estes Park was spent on the mountain-tops, but many days 
were whiled away in rides, drives, and strolls among the quiet 
scenes of this beautiful vale. Encircling the shores of Mary's 
Lake and tracing from afar routes which we had followed into 
the range, was a delight. We climbed the ledges of little Pros- 
pect Mountain, and studied the topography of the valleys at 
our feet or of the rugged mountains in the west. We gal- 
loped over pastures ; we forded river and creek. Seemingly 
inexhaustible are the scenes of pleasure to be found along this 
beautiful river of Estes Park in its short yet varied course 
through the mountains. Dashing forth from a dark, deep 
cafion, tumbling over precipices and ledges, the stream ceases 
for a space in its hurry, winds gently through the peaceful 
valley, then again descends as a rapid through ravines in the 
foot-hills, and afterward sluggishly creeps across the plains 
to join the Platte. In one of its little glens we were shown 
the last memento of Indian life existing in the valley, — a 
"wickyup," or arbor-wigwam, hidden in the dense aspen 
growth, and built of these trees. It had stood there longer 


than the oldest settler knew ; the poles were rotting and fall- 
ing in, and could have retained their position but a little while 
longer; but alas! a fire has since swept through the aspen 
forest, and the " wickyup " has been destroyed before its time. 
Still more interesting and novel are the scenes to be met with, 
or perhaps rather to be ferreted out, along the banks of the 
little torrents that flow into the Big Thompson from the north 
and from the south. One of these streams is Wind River, 
beautiful to me from many associations. It was on one of 
those happy days upon its borders that my great interest began 
in the mountain that I am about to describe. 

That day I was in this pretty valley with my wife. We had 
spent the time lazily near a deserted cabin by the stream. I 
had been fishing a little. Later we were looking at the moun- 
tains, which from here are so beautiful in the west. One 
great peak with a steep wall facing the east, and a long reclin- 
ing ridge leading toward the southwest, especially interested 
us. A large snow-field lay on the eastern face ; two glitter- 
ing bands of ice extended skyward to the ridge of the moun- 
tain, forming a perfect Y. My wife said to me, " Its name 
shall be Ypsilon Peak." So it went forth, and the name was 
accepted by the dwellers in the valley and by the visitors at 
the ranches. 

In the pages of this journal I have already described the 
views from two little mountains, Sheep and Prospect, which 
are in Estes Park, and separated from the main range by 
valleys and meadows. There is another elevation, nearer to 
some of the great peaks, which is well worthy of description, 
especially in connection with Ypsilon. This is Deer Moun- 
tain, a beautiful wooded elevation, with long sweeps of pasture- 
land reaching from the pine growth down to the rushing Big 
Thompson River. Beaver Park is on the southern flanks, and 
separates it from Eagle Cliff. On the north a narrow valley 
divides it from the southern ridge of the Black Canon; and 
this narrow valley leads into a wide " open " called Horseshoe 
Park, which lies between Deer Mountain and the range. 
Deer Mountain, itself beautiful to look upon, gives charm- 
ing views of the mountains and valleys. One must traverse 
its summit, a great square nearly a half-mile broad, from 


one end to the other in order to obtain the different views ; 
but each corner is marked by an elevated ledge, from whose 
summit the perfect outlooks are obtained. It was from one 
of these ledges, the westernmost, and overlooking that unique 
valley, Horseshoe Park, that I obtained the finest view of 

The great parks of Colorado, such as Estes, are beautiful ; 
but these smaller ones found higher up among the mountains 
are far more interesting and picturesque. Met with in among 
the fastnesses of the hills, they can never fail to be a sur- 
prise to the traveller, the hunter, or the explorer. They are 
hidden between steep ridges, which are clothed with dense 
spruce or pine to their base. In the glade the trees are scat- 
tered, as if planted for a park with broad walks between. Tlie 
water flowing through is no longer a dashing torrent, but a 
quiet stream, its banks lined with aspens which quiver and 
rustle in the breeze. Sometimes the narrow glen widens into 
a vast level stretch, with high peaks walling in the distance 
and looking down upon fair meadows. Such a valley is 
Horseshoe Park, and Ypsilon and its rocky spurs block the 
western sky. The smaller glades found about timber-line on 
Ypsilon and Hague's Peaks are even more picturesque. This 
is especially true of those found on the densely wooded slopes 
of the latter peak, which upon the opposite side is a bare rock 
and snow waste down to a much lower altitude. In following 
the ill-defined trail from Estes Park to Lawn Lake, along the 
slopes of the great peak, struggling up through the forest, the 
traveller suddenly comes upon such glades at frequent inter- 
vals, and it seems as if a deer or elk must surely bound out of 
tbe tall luxurious grass into the dark forest. 

Never anxious to send me away from her side into the 
mountains, the sponsor of Ypsilon was always desirous that 
I should ascend this peak ; but the summer vacation of 1887 
passed away and it still remained unclimbed. During this 
last summer, however, the not difficult but very interesting 
feat was accomplished. 

Thursday, August 9, a camping outfit was packed in Fer- 
guson's stage ; and our party, consisting of Mr. Hallett, Mr. 
Benjamin Ives Oilman, Mr. George W. Thacher, Mr. J. R. 



EdmandB, Prof. C. E. Fay, and the writer, started for Horse- 
shoe Park to attempt Tpsilon Peak. Mr. Gibnan and myself 
rode horses, which were to be used as pack animals on our 
arrival in Horseshoe Park. We left Ferguson's ranch at 
9.30 A. M., and reached the end of the road at 11.80. There 
we unloaded the wagon and sent it home, packed the two 
horses with the necessary outfit, and turning to the right 
followed an old trail by the side of a creek which flows from 
LsLwn Lake. We lundied in a park where there was feed for 
the horses, and higher up at four o'clock forded the creek 
under some difficulties, the operation consuming half an hour. 
After leaving the ford, there was no trail ; so Mr. Hallett led 
the procession with axe in hand, and was obliged to cut and 
hew right and left. 

With our faces now turned directly toward Ypsilon Peak, 
and several hundred feet above a brook which flows from its 
snows, we worked our way over the side of a great ancient 
moraine for three hours, and on the banks of the stream found 
a suitable camping-spot at dark. I acted as commissary and 
cook, but fear that my comrades were not over and above 
pleased with the very plain fare. We passed the night under 
cover of canvas, rubber, and blankets ; we did not carry a 
tent. With the exception of one of our number, we all 
slept well. 

In the morning we left camp at 7.20 ; at first in a body, but, 
as is generally the case with such a large party, we were soon 
scattered all over the flanks of Mt. Fairchild, over the top of 
which we intended to go. Mr. Hallett carried my sensitized 
plates, — a heavj^^ load. I lugged the camera, and in addition 
to this burden was troubled with a very lame foot, and had 
little hope of standing on the summit of Tpsilon that day. 
Mr. Edmands soon made direct for the summit of Fairchild, 
which he reached at 10.55; while the rest of us bore to the 
right in order to gain a ridge, by following which we thought 
we should obtain good views the whole morning long. We 
kept nearly together, Messrs. Fay and Hallett arriving first on 
the ridge at 8.15. At that point I took pictures of Ypsilon, 
and higher up obtained fine views of Hague's Peak and the 
west peak of the Mummy Range. The deeply furrowed pre- 


cipitous sides of the former peak, rising nearly 8,000 feet 
above the timber, were marvellous to behold. 

Messrs. Fay, Hallett, and Thacher now went ahead for Fair- 
child ; and Mr. Oilman and I, not being in good condition, 
determined to skirt that mountain a few hundred feet below 
the summit. We were soon joined by Mr. Thacher, who 
was also out of sorts and had given up Fairchild. Luckily 
we had one canteen of milk and a flask of brandy with us, 
and constituted ourselves an invalid corps for a short time, 
when, strange to relate, my lame foot with exercise had be- 
come entirely well. Mr. Gilman als(\ had quite recovered 
from his indisposition ; so, leaving our friend to continue a 
direct high-level route to the notch between Fairchild and 
Ypsilon, we made straight for the top of the former, over 
the steepest part of the peak. This enabled me to examine 
a snow-field in which I had long been interested ; but I was 
disappointed in it. When T came to Estes Park, the first of 
July, it was a great body of snow, and so shows in photo- 
graphs taken during that month; but it had steadily de- 
creased, and now, a perfect arrowhead in form and at its 
minimum in size, the ice was very thin and shallow. At the 
snow we again changed our plans, thinking that we should be 
too late to meet our friends on the summit, and bore away 
around the peak, hoping to head them off. We crossed their 
path a hundred feet above them, and arrived on the scene at 
an opportune moment. We had commenced to descend at a 
rapid gait, when Mr. Gilman shouted, ^^ Look ! a bear ! " He 
spied the animal, a great cinnamon, as it was emerging from 
its lair under a projecting ledge. I shouted to Mr. Hallett, 
who carried a revolver ; and he gave Bruin several shots, all 
but one of which sounded " click " against the rocks. The 
bullet that returned no sound we suppose lodged in bear meat. 
Like the grizzly which we met last year on Mummy Mountain, 
this bear seemed bound for Wyoming, and soon disappeared 
beyond the sky-line of the mountain ; but he gave us lots of 
fun for a few minutes. 

We reached the notch at 12.50 p. m., and there joining 
Mr. Edmands we began on the lunch. Mr. Thacher soon 
came in, and reported having seen two young cinnamon bears 


l)laying on ledges below him. The bear question was getting 

At 1.30 P. M. Messrs. Edmands, Hallett, and Fay stai*ted for 
Ypsilon's crest, which they reached at 2.25. Mr. Thacher 
started down through a gorge for camp, which I considered 
a very heroic action ; for my part I never should have ven- 
tured through that country alone and unarmed. Mr. Gilmau 
and I spent some time selecting view-points and taking photo- 
graphs, using up most of the plates. Tlie views from the 
notch are very fine, especially toward the west. Starting for 
Ypsilon at two o'clock, we followed the route taken by the 
others, which led up the gradual western slope of the moun- 
tain, and reached the summit at 3.10. We found Mr. Edmands 
busy taking angles ; but all his labor was for naught, on ac- 
count of the disturbance caused by the presence of magnetic 
iron in the rocks. Although the day was perfect for an 
expedition in the mountains, the breeze was a little too fresh 
on the highest rocks ; so we all dropped down imder a ledge 
on the east face, and scanned with the field-glass the gorges 

Ypsilon from above is even finer than from below. The 
snow gullies which form the long lines converging together 
at the base, which give the peak its name, cut deep into the 
mountain's flanks, and have formed miniature canons. Weird 
shapes of snow cling to nooks which are sheltered from the 
sun. One cornice had a big hole in it, as if a cannon-ball had 
passed through. But the great point of interest is the steep 
character of the whole northeastern face. Numerous lakes 
were visible below, between us and our camp ; some were 
perched on high moraines far away from tlie base of the peak ; 
while straight down and over 2,000 feet below, immediately 
at the base of the cliffs, we saw two large ones which were 
walled in by dykes. All the great peaks in the neighbor- 
hood have these characteristic glacial lakelets. The debris 
seems to have been swept away from the exit end, though 
great blocks lie on the side. 

In a short time we went to the point near where the left 
snow couloir begins, and hurled off big bowlders, imagining 
that we could send them into the water below. Only one 


thing prevented : we could not find any rocks tenacious enough 
to hold together. All were reduced to fragments before they 
reached the smooth surface of the lake. 

Mr. Hallett, Professor Fay, and Mr. Edmands soon left us, 
and following the ridge descended the next peak south on their 
way to camp. After parting with these travellers we returned 
to the summit of Ypsilon and commenced to erect a cairn, but 
the rocks being too heavy to handle easily, we gave it up. As 
the wind had died down a little, we spread out a map on the 
rocks, and with aid of compass identified many points of in- 
terest; but soon abandoned that simply to take in the glorious 
view. Long's Peak with its grand tower never looked nobler. 
The mountains in Estes Park were but his little foot-hills. 
The moraine in Willow Park, the smaller ones in Horseshoe, 
and the still larger one, which above our camp led down 
towards Horseshoe Park, were very prominent features in 
the near landscape. The imposing rocky face of Hague's 
Peak cut off the northern horizon. Past the turrets of the 
west peak of the Mummy Range we saw the ice of the summit 
of Hallett glacier. Then for the first time I realized why 
that great mass of snow exceeded all others in the Front 
Range. Placed near the summit of a peak 14,000 feet in 
height, it lies in such a cold region that this alone prevents 
little waste from melting. 

The view toward the west is magnificent. It must be 
remembered that this district is yet in a wild state. Let not 
the reader think when he looks at the map and sees places 
noted, such as " Lulu," " Michigan City," that it means much. 
In many cases such dots mark but the site of deserted mining- 
camps or lonely ranches. " Moraine," for example, in Estes 
Park, given place on the map in large letters, is in reality one 
ranch, Sprague's, with a few cottages for summer visitors. 
Perhaps two or three members of the family at the most 
remain at the ranch during the winter months. Grand 
County, whose mountains we gazed upon, contains some 2,000 
square miles, and had at the last census a population of 417 
persons. These mostly dwell in the lower part of Middle 
Park ; so it may be imagined that very few human beings were 
in the wide coimtry that we looked upon. Right beneath, 



a deep upper valley of the Cache la Poudre River separated 
us from the beautiful rock peak which serves us as an illustra- 
tion. This mountain, like innumerable others dominated over 
by Upper Grand Valley Peak, was a study in itself. The 
tapering summit, the white snow-field, the glacial lakelet, 
were beautiful. What an ice-fall and what a crevasse must 
once have marked the place where one sees the sudden break 
in the gradual slopes below the lake! There were scenes 
such as the camera cannot carry away from mountains like 
these. Far below in the green valley were dashing brooks, 

roaring cascades, miles of green 
meadow and great forest, such 
as the dwellers on the plains 
little dream grow in Colorado. 
All these things were seen in 
a few moments, and we began 
a rapid descent. In half an 
hour we reached the point near 
the col where we left the cam- 
era, and hastened down the 
gorge. Of the three routes to 
camp followed by our divided 
party, we suspect that we took 
the most interesting. Surely 
there are no finer turrets and 
pinnacles to be found among the mountains than those which 
surmount the aretes of Ypsilon on the north.^ We lingered 
to take some photographs, but when on the col a gust of wind 
had struck the camera, and throwing it over had broken the 
ground glass ; so the pictures taken later did not prove to be 
quite in focus. 

As we descended lower we came upon beautiful lakes and 
greenswards, but in such wild spots that I should not care 
to be there alone. The cliffs above us echoed back many a 

1 The accompanying cut represents the sharply serrated portion of a nap- 
row ridge which descends from the shoulder seen in Plate XI. on the right of 
the highest peak of Ypsilon. Tlie heavy mass of snow below the junction of 
the two arms of tlie Y, fairly hidicated in the plate, Ues in a gulch of which 
this ridge forms the right or northerly waU. 






shout which we sent up among them, for we thought that 
perhaps our companion of the morning might be waiting for 
us among some of the ledges. Our way was free from great 
difficulties until near camp and at dark, when we became 
involved in the mysteries and miseries of a forest swamp. 
We divided loads and changed packs ; but it seemed to me, 
whichever I carried, camera or plates, that they were never so 
heavy before. We got to camp at 7.45 o'clock, and were the 
last in. Camp-fire that night was an interesting one, as each 
had a story to tell. 

It seems that Mr. Hallett, by an accident and misunder- 
standing, became separated from his companions, and getting 
lower down in the gorges arrived first at camp. Professor 
Fay, descending a little in front of Mr. Edmands at the 
upper edge of tlie scrub growth, was very much startled by 
two large cinnamon bears, which at full speed, and growling, 
advanced upon him in tandem order. The mountaineer 
shouted loudly, and whirled his shining canteen in the air 
with sufficient energy to change the plans of Bruin, who had 
probably considered him some small game. The leader, now 
within twenty feet, turned so quickly in his tracks, that he 
almost knocked over Ursa Minor, following at his heels. 
Their appearance was for a moment ludicrous, and tended 
to neutralize the sensation of fright which the beasts had 
at first excited. Mr. Edmands hurried to the scene, of which 
the two gentlemen remained masters ; for the animals, after 
getting themselves together, disappeared into the timber. 

Our camp was also a merry one, and our voices rang 
cheerily far into the night. We knew no sadness. We had 
been upon a beautiful mountain, had met with adventures and 
no mishaps, and were now safe around a blazing fire within 
the circle of whose rays neither bear nor mountain lion would 
dare to venture. 


Two in the Alpine Pastures. 

Bt M. M. Ptchowska. 


** Over the pastures no plough can tame 
Swift mounting feet climb airily." 

All through the dry June the thirsty vales had been long- 
ing for a good soaking rain. Up the parched mountain slopes 
the cankering fire was eating its way into the heart of the 
forest, and drawing an ominous yellow veil of smoke over the 
fair blue sky and clean-<;ut peaks. What malarial taint can 
make the atmosphere more heavy than does this incense of 
burning forests sacrificed in vain to the demon of reckless 
waste ! This is not '' smoke that passeth away." It weighs 
like lead upon the spirits of the mountaineer, as morning 
after morning he opens his window to find the same yellow 
monotone pervading earth and sky. It would seem that the 
imps of the fire-fiend deliberately set to work to cast a spell 
of colorless mediocrity over the loveliness of our northern 
hills just at the season when the dwellers in cities come to be 
refreshed by their unsmirched beauty. 

At last, one Sunday afternoon, the spell was broken by a 
voice of thunder, and from then till the following Thursday 
the beneficent rain-clouds " raked the hills." No vexation 
was nursed in Durand Cottage during those four wet days. 
We opened our hearts and expanded in sympathy with the 
rescued forest and rejoicing potato-patch. We can afford to 
be magnanimous, — we who make our nest in Durand Cottage, 
— for the mountains are all our own. Standing on the thresh- 
old, we look upward along three of the mountain entries, and 
hold in our grasp the many-stranded clew that leads to the 
topmost pinnacle. There is such a thing as being too near a 
big mountain to see it well ; but a certain veteran historiogra- 
pher of New Hampshire, while admitting the general disad- 
vantage of such nearness, expressly states that " an exception 
may be made, as, from Durand, which lies directly under the 
northern termination of the mountains, a distinct view of Mt. 
Adams, in clear weather, may be had." 


Time was when we chose the trackless woods, and despised 
paths ; but those were other people's paths. Which of us 
but has an affection for his own way ? And the ways of Du- 
rand are all our own ways, — ways that we trod as explorers, 
ways that we marked with blazes, ways that we helped to 
hew out and straighten, ways that we measured with pegs 
and tape, ways whose every hundred yards is so precious 
that it must be remeasured in metres. — If it is four miles 
from Durand Cottage to the top of Mt. Adams, pray how 
many kilometres is it ? — Do not ask us. We look with benev- 
olent eye upon the dainty white blocks that mark every hecto- 
metre of the way from " 0^ " to the summit ; but we measured 
the distance with a fifty-foot tape, and have measured it again 
with our own two feet so often that we may be pardoned if 
no other method of computation appeals to our inner sense. 

Two of us had left the city and sought the summer nest 
before the end of June, having an errand to gather the rare 
alpine blossoms that spring up under the heels of the depart- 
ing snow. These two were waiting for the clouds to finish 
their intricate dance around the peaks ; but they waited calmly, 
trusting that when the flaunting skirts should be drawn out 
of the way, they should yet see a remnant of the snow-patch 
lying at the head of the great ravine, a fair white pearl on 
the breast of the mountain. There it still lies on Friday 
morning when the seekers open their window to look at the 
weather. The peaks are almost clear, only the head of Mt. 
Madison being still obscured by an indefatigable cloud ; and 
it is easy for the sanguine to ignore the darkened east, whither 
its comrades have retired, seemingly to recover breath before, 
beginning a new revel. 

It does not take long for old mountaineers to get into their 
walking harness. Lunch-basket and waterproof jacket take 
to their appropriate straps as naturally as fish to water, and 
sit as lightly on the back as birds on a telegraph wire. A 
tin dipper bearing the honorable scars of mountain assault 
and battery, and a basket to stow plants in, string themselves 
conveniently around the waist, whereunto is added on this oc- 
casion a slim yellow umbrella, stuck in the belt like a sword. 
Yellow umbrellas are suggestive of sunshine, and conse- 


quentlj no suspicion is aroused when the two tramps an- 
nounce that if the weather is promising they will go on to the 
snow ; if not, they will stop at the ^^ Scar " and come home 
to dinner. 

Off they start across the green intervale, Mrs. Howler lead- 
ing and Miss Howler following. Presently they enter the 
woods at the sign " Path," get through a pair of bars, and 
then bid farewell for a season to human barriers and tame 
cattle. For a mile of the forest way, the swollen brook along- 
side drowns all the other music of the woods. But anon the 
path leaves the noisy stream, and the two tramps stop for 
their first rest where they can listen peaceably to the birds. 

Peaceably? Are there no other winged things in these 
northern woods than the wild songsters ? Ah, yes ! We re- 
gret to say that the black-fly is a fellow connoisseur in moun- 
tain localities, and chooses the fairest season for his outing. 
However, we respect his good taste, and, in return, he rarely 
drives us from the field. 

Black-flies aside, these June woods have a sociable charm 
that will be lost ere July is half over. Then the forest will 
be lonely and silent, with little more than the beguiling 
scream of a hawk or the sudden, loud shrilling of a locust, to 
break the stillness ; but now it is full of many-voiced domestic 
warblings and twitterings that form a bourdon for the clear, 
ringing fife of the Swainson thrush. Is it merely the associa- 
tion of his environment which lends to the song of this thrush 
a peculiar charm for lovers of the wilderness ? Or is it not 
rather the " ascending spiral " of melody which itself awakens 
in them a sympathetic chord ? The hermits that tune their 
mellow pipes in such varying pitch along the pasture edges 
back of Durand Cottage ; the veeries that pour out their me- 
tallic double-notes from among the bowery fringes of Moose 
River, — why is it that we do not hear them far from the 
haunts of men ? What instinct is it that impels the Swainson 
and the winter wren to choose for their portion the deep woods 
and upper slopes, so that one can scarcely climb so high upon 
our mountains as to be out of hearing of their music ? It is 
Nature's hint to us that the harmony of social life is not to be 
sought in our all singing the same tune and building the same 


sort of nest in the same limb of the tree. Her Te Deum is 
not writ in unison, nor is it a mere solo with ohhligato accom- 
paniment ; it is essentially counterpointal, each voice having 
a distinct individual value, yet ordered to the whole. 

Our travellers are up and on their way once more. Ere- 
long they become aware that they have a guide who seems 
as much at home in their path as they, its measurers. For 
near a mile Brer Hedgehog waddles on in front, never swerv- 
ing from the smooth, worn trail until it crosses a gully too 
wide for those short legs to span, and here he drops out of 

The Howlers have passed the stretch of sunny old logging- 
road, where the raspberry-bushes and saplings encroach upon 
the footway ; and once more entering the cool, mossy forest, 
they come to an important junction where the ways to Madi- 
son and to Adams diverge. Now for a bit of a scramble up 
through the spruces and birches between the moss-clad rock- 
ribs to the " Scar." " 2\ Miles " is here set forth in black 
and white. A most worthy place is this Scar, a very paragon 
of half-way places, — offering a feast to the beauty-lover who 
dare climb no higher, and whetting the appetite of the hardy 
mountaineer who is not content until he has the whole hori- 
zon, from the eastern sea to the Green Mountains of the west, 
spread for his table. The roar of Salmacis Fall comes up 
from the deep glen to the jutting crag on which we stand ; and 
our eyes, as we lift them, traverse the steep forest-clad walls 
up to the sinuous timber-limit, then the region of " bleak and 
barren rocks of ashen green," up, up, to " peaks sharp and 
clear, sublimely desolate." How near they seem, — the point 
of Adams glorified in the sunshine, " John Quincy " with great 
jagged rocks projected against a dark cloud, and Madison's 
dome caressed by the mist that is still pouring over from the 
east ! Promising weather ? Oh yes, the Howlers deem that 
it promises them beautiful storm effects at least, and perhaps 
a mild sort of adventure to boot. The mutterings in the dark 
mass behind "John Quincy" are answered by a regular cannon- 
ading from the northward ; so the two tramps hasten on up the 
steep grade to auother junction of ways, and thence along the 
ever-narrowing ridge where the spruce and fir growth ever 


lessens in height, and the ground is a paradise of deep moss 
and fairy-like plants. 

At last tliey are out on the rocks, with an unobstructed view 
on every hand. This is a regular halting-place, — five minutes 
to enjoy the breeze and the view. Yonder are two showers, — 
one bearing down over Jefferson Hill, Cherry Pond shining 
ghastly white under the dark frown of the storm ; the other 
sweeping its gray veil over the Pilot wildeniess. Do they 
mean to effect a junction, and then with combined force 
bombard Mt. Adams? Never mind! If they are exhausting 
their ammunition in such prodigal way upon the hills of 
Jefferson and Randolph, they will not dare to approach the 
mighty sachems of the Great Range in other than conciliatory 
fashion. So think the two adventurers, inspired by the cheer- 
ful sunshine that pours down through the blue rift overhead. 

The great thing now is to reach the snow ere the clouds gain 
possession of the heights, and then trust to a compass-coun- 
selled instinct and the Howler lungs for a safe return. After 
due consideration, it is thouglit best to run the train in two 
sections. Accordingly, the younger lady sets off express for 
the snow-patch on the farther edge of the ravine. Her path 
lies along the sharp crest of Durand Ridge, the slightest and 
most roof-like of all the lofty mountain buttresses, save only 
the Ridge of the Castles. It is not now as it was when the 
Clymer clan first explored it; when every gap between the 
merlons of the battlemcnted crest was chock-full of huddled 
spruce and fir, "snaggle-toothed and double-jointed." Now 
the axe has opened a clean swath through the midst of the 
knotty dwarfs, and every crag is a familiar resting-place for 
foot and eye. We look over the precipice to our right into 
the sunny depths of King's Ravine, and up comes the long, 
sweet, unpunctuated warble of the winter wren, mingled with 
the murmur of cascades fed by the wasting snow. Could it 
possibly have been more beautiful last September, when we 
saw the bold sides of the amphitheatre tapestried with golden 
birches ? And there, down in the green forest glen, that 
slopes more gently on our left, is an olive-backed thrush sing- 
ing to the accompaniment of Snyder Brook. 

Encouraged by the sunshine and the birds, Miss Howler 


speeds on toward the dark peaks, now half shrouded in the fog 
that comes over from the east and stretches out long arms to 
beckon on the northern artillery. The fringes of these flow- 
ing sleeves are all about her, and the warm sunshine shrinks 
before the chill wind that sweeps over the Madison col. She 
Dears the " Gateway," and looks through its portal down the 
steep lane of alpine grass and debris, into the mighty caldron 
where the opposing vapors are boiling. Hark ! what is that 
loud and ominous «A — uttered through the teeth of the rocks ? 
It is the shibboleth of the winds. The Gateway is their tryst- 
ing-place. The first breath of the northern storm has arrived. 
See how the fog's beckoning fingers are bent back, and tall 
wisps shoot up out of the seething mass of vapor that fills the 
ravine ! One could imagine gigantic ghosts playing leap-frog, 
and spectral breakers dashing and foaming against a rock- 
bound shore. The Indians feared to encounter the spirit of 
the mountain mist. The white tramp is more audacious. He 
(or she) dares be on terms of familiarity with the old hills, no 
matter what mighty names they bear. 

This is not a time for a daughter of Eve to stand on cere- 
mony with her lofty brethren. She eyes the approaching 
shower, and observes that the thunder is less frequent, that 
the northwest wind is fast melting the fog. Once more 
the snow-patch shines invitingly from over the arctic waste. 
What a strange, desolate region ! The eye meets nothing 
it can take as a measure of size or distance, — only heaps of 
broken rock, green-gray with lichens, with here and there a 
thicket of knee-high "shrub," or a stretch of grassy lawn. 
What would be the story of these alpine pastures, if told in 
ungeological language ? Were they once all green and fair, 
till some titanic macadamizer made them a dumping-ground 
for his waste material? Or has the modern love for the 
minutisB of Nature gained even yonder conservative old Fede- 
ralist, and prompted him to cultivate oases of fairy-like beauty 
in the midst of his heritage of barren rocks ? Surely here is 
his market-garden, — a royal cranberry-patch in full blossom. 
And here he has been so improvident as to let the buttercups 
gain on the hay-crop, — buttercups so much larger and of so 
much redder a gold than those of the lowland. Here the 


botanist interrupts with the prosaic statement that these are 
not buttercups at all, — that they are geums, not ranunculi. 
We are lucky if he does not hint contemptuously at the low- 
ness of our taste in fancying yellow flowers. He cannot 
abide such an inferior form of plant life as is indicated by 
this gaudy color ; while we, in our ignorance, like to fancy 
that the sun is pleased when he looks down and sees his 
yellow face reflected in these shining petals. 

The well-known gully at last ! Miss Howler and the march- 
ing rain reach it together. A mass of snow sixty feet long, 
twenty wide, and perhaps ten feet thick, is all that is left of 
what last winter's winds swept over from the shelterless 
plateau into this cranny of the mountain wall. Here, as in 
the other ravines, the snow wastes away beneath, leaving an 
arched passage for the drainage of the gully. The dripping 
roof of this cavern, though charmingly ornamented with con- 
choidal repouss^ work, is not an inviting shelter ; and the soli- 
tary damsel looks about for something more suited to her 
comfort. Crossing above the snow, her foot loosens an ava- 
lanche of small stones, that go dancing down the steep incline, 
making the snow-spray fly, and suggesting the peril of an 
involuntary coast over the smooth surface to the merciless 
rocks below. Just as the rain begins to pelt, she ensconces 
herself in a niche formed by two rocks projecting from the 
side of the gully. There is not room enough for her with her 
burden on her back ; so she struggles out of harness, and dis- 
poses her luggage about her as best she may. Then, with 
feet drawn up under her skirt, to avoid the rill that pours 
down from the eaves of her lean-to, she is at leisure to enjoy 
the prospect of the outside world, — the depths of the ravine 
(or, more correctly, big hole in the mountain side), its walls 
rudely scored, yet every scoring lined with June greenness ; 
the Gateway crags, where she stood half an hour ago ; the three 
bleak summits, Madison showing a preternatural sharpness 
when seen thus end-on. What is that white speck just within 
the Gateway ? We remember no such landmark ; but perhaps 
it is a fresh unweathered chip o£E some crag that last winter's 
frost sent thundering down to join the heap of ice-sheltering 
" bowlders " on the ravine floor. The rain thickens, and the 


clouds form anew, shutting out all vision of the thither world. 
Apropos, the storm-bound maiden calls to mind that it is 
afternoon, and that there is no need to be idle while there is 
such profitable matter for discussion in the lunch-basket. 

A little while and the clouds melt ; the storm (a very tame 
storm) has passed. Miss Howler has finished her lunch and 
set in order the botanical apparatus. Suddenly she lifts her 
eyes, for there comes a sound across the wide ravine. She 
knows it at once ; it is the cry of her own clan. Answering 
in the same tone, she unfurls the yellow umbrella and waves 
it in the direction of the Gateway. Lo ! the unfamiliar white 
spot moves; it waves in response. 

Greetings over, now for the treasures of the snow. Imme- 
diately around the snow-bank the sides of the gully are black- 
ened as though by fire, and the matted locks of dead grass 
hang down disconsolately. Can life ever spring up again out 
of this cold corpse ? See, a few feet farther, where the snow 
has been gone for a week or so, green things are bursting 
through the black earth. And then — Iris, be jealous of 
thy colors ! — still a little farther, and there is a zone of full- 
blown blossoms. Where to begin ? thinks Miss Howler ; and 
she climbs up and down the steep gully, hunting for the most 
perfect specimen of every flower, that she may pack it away 
carefully in the tin box, which, as you may see by the label on 
the bottom, once held such vulgar things as chocolate wafers. 
It is hard to decide upon the best piece out of this i:osy carpet 
of alpine azalea. She lifts the chosen cluster of tiny pink stars 
sprinkled thickly over the dark foliage that clings so tightly 
to the ground, feels for the stout, woody stem, as old a growth 
as many a tall tree, and cuts it carefully that nothing may be 
wastefuUy destroyed. Botanist! of whatsoever species thou 
art, to whom I have revealed the secret of our alpine garden, 
wilt thou be so beast-like as to root up these rare darlings of 
the cloudland ? Woe to thee, if thou take more than is suffi- 
cient ! Thou shalt never be called a true plant-lover, if thou 
destroy a " locality " ! Here are legions of alpine heather- 
bells, white and purple, botanically known as Oassiope hyp- 
noides and Phyllodoce taxifoUa, As usual, it is the unspotted 
one who takes the post of labor nearest to the retreating frost. 


and bends her innocent head with its close-fitting, star-like 
cap, and spreads her delicate fingers to the work of weaving 
a covering for the naked earth. She is the busy Martha, and 
behind her stands her tall sister, robed in the purple of pen- 
ance and lifting up her hands toward the sky. Here, too, are 
banks of IHapenaia Lapponica, its stiff evergreen cushion thick 
set with the transparent porcelain of its large white flowers, 
long since out of bloom on the open heights. 

It is nearing two o'clock, and the shadows are beginning to 
fall eastward into the ravine. The threshold of the Gateway 
is empty, and a figure is to be seen moving along the battle- 
ments of Durand Ridge. Miss Howler puts up her traps and 
prepares to start in pursuit. It is not easy to leave the won- 
derful gully, nor to hasten over the sloping plateau, where the 
constellations of the night sky are mirrored in the " white- 
starred pastures of the mountain." Here are the many-rayed 
stars of the trientalis and the gold-thread ; the creamy, nebu- 
lous clusters of Labrador Tea ; and yonder is a whole galaxy 
of stars of the first magnitude, — the four-pointed stars of the 
dwarf cornel. A bit of arenaria for " auld lang syne," a fra- 
grant spray of cowberry blossoms, and a few of the gcums' 
golden butter-plates are gathered to fill up the corners of the 
tin box. Rhododendron Lapponicum^ the Lapland rose-bay, 
is still lacking to the alpine garland, and Miss Howler hopes 
to find at least one belated flower of it on Durand Ridge. 
There are the dwarf thickets in plenty, lifting their tough, 
rusty-green foliage five or six inches above the soil, but inno- 
cent of any purple stain. First about the Gateway, and then 
down the slope toward Madison Spring, she hunts for the 
missing specimen, remembering how she and her poet have 
twice found it blooming a second time, with the violets in late 
September, when — 

** Parched was the gprass where late the frost had beeo, 
Gray with drought-rifled boaghs the wide ravine 
Whose shattered depths wore autumn's richest gold, 
Dazzling the climber of the rock-ribbed way, 
Where, daring still June's blossoms to unfold, 
Greeted brave alpine plant earth-loving e3'es, — 
An earnest lesson teaching in sweet guise 
To thoughtful loiterers of a happy day." 


Aha ! what is that scrap of brilliant color lying on a cushion 
of diapensia, which by right wears only pearls ? Whence has 
the wind wafted this purple-pink corolla? Look round the 
corner of the battlement ; growing on the very brink of the 
precipice is a poor starved bushlet, almost bare of leaves. 
Brave little plant, it has expended its whole strength in flower- 
ing, and now all its purple glory lies strewn under the naked 
twigs. No, it has held fast to one solitary jewel, now yielded 
to the grateful maiden who stows it away among its comrades, 
tenderly settling it for the long journey in the mail-bag. 
After all, the poet of the alpine pastures for whom the chap- 
let is woven shall not be denied her arctic bay. 

Our sociable twain reunite at timber-line, and spend a half- 
hour in comparing experiences and posies, and in lingering 
study of the distant shining strip of Lake Umbagog and the 
dear, familiar forms of Old Elephant-back and Goose-eye 
Mountain so tender a blue in the afternoon light. 

It is time to leave the upper world. Down they go, through 
the Lilliputian forest, stopping to test the several rills that 
are running now so full and cold ; down into the tall wood, 
over the stretch of sunny logging-road, following the noisy 
brook out to the intervale, where the hospitable Cottage con- 
fronts them and sends across the valley a welcome summons 
to supper. 

Let them go, poor mortals, to seek the comforts of the low- 
land. They are only visitors, not true dwellers on the heights. 
Will you linger with me, kindred spirit, to bask in the glory 
of the long afternoon, to watch the shadows stretch down 
the eastward slopes and steal out from under the huge crags 
that overhang Star Lake ? Shall we bivouac under one of 
these crags, warming our ten wits at a fire of bleached " rams' 
horns," while we watch the moon rise and gleam, first upon 
the distant sea, a shining thread where earth and sky meet, 
then upon an open bit of noisy torrent in the Great Gulf be- 
neath us, finally upon the quiet tarn by our side, scarce ruffled 
by the infrequent gusts that sigh over the col, until it pass 
from sight behind the sharp peak of Mt. Adams, that towers 
above us a thousand feet and more in desolate stillness ? 
Have you enough ? Will you seek your balsam couch and 



Bleep, now that the east is about to unfold the daily mystery ? 
How imperceptible and yet how swift is the growing of the 
light ! Soundless, pulseless, unwavering, irresistible, it comes 
to take possession of its own ; — and the earth quivers, and is 
still ; draws breath, and wafts away the night mist ; looks 
upward, speaks, is filled by the full glory of the orient from 
on high. 

Mountains near New Zealand Notch. 

IJ 1 . 3, K 3. 2 and 3.] 

Bt Eugene B. Cook. 

EMd Dm. 19. 1888. 

Several years ago, in looking over the revised edition of 
Walling's Map of the White Mountains, the writer's atten- 
tion was attracted to several new names of mountains which 
there made their first appearance. Among them were 
" Mt. Thompson " and " Mt. Hastings." The former is the 
" J 1. 3," of the Appalachian Map of 1887 ; and the latter 
embraces the two summits, " K 3. 2 " and " K 3. 8." The 
writer immediately thought of the opportimity offered for 
exploration, but the many calls upon his time delayed his 
meditated reconnoissance imtil last summer. 

After a detention of many days in waiting for promising 
weather, Mr. W. H. Peek and the narrator, on the morning 
of August 20, started for Twin Mountain Station in a car- 
riage driven by the elder Mr. Watson, of the Ravine House, 
who was one of those who assisted in hauling the lumber up 
the Stilling's Path for the making of one of the old houses 
on Mt. Washington. The morning was uncommonly bright, 
and the previous succession of wet weather seemed to require 
a counterbalance of clear days. At Mr. Charles E. Lowe's 
house we were joined by that well-known and genial guide. 
One of his sons was to have accompanied us ; but he unfor- 
tunately had met with an accident the day before, in helping 
to clear out the path in King's Ravine, and so was unable to 


go. Accordingly, when we reached the " Bowman Place," 
where Mr. Lowe had some men at work haying, he hailed 
one of them and asked him if he would like to accompany 
us. The person addressed was a sturdy, vivacious young 
Hibernian from Prince Edward Island, George McKern by 
name. He was entirely ready to go, even without his coat. 
Mr. Lowe opportunely had a spare jacket; so no delay occurred 
in securing our recruit. 

Our route was by Jefferson Station, and thence along the 
road which passes to the west of Cherry Mountain. Our drive 
was a very enjoyable one, and before nooning had ended we 
were landed at the post-office and store not far from the Twin 
Mountain Station. At twenty-five minutes after one (meridian 
of Vineland, N. J.) a barometric observation was taken at the 
Twin Mountain Station, and soon after we were following the 
high-road westward. Before many minutes we came to where 
a sign-board marks a field-road leading toward Twin Mountain. 
This road was in good condition, and was followed without 
hesitation to where the path crosses Little River. On the far- 
ther bank of that goodly stream, in sight of an occupied house, 
we sat down to lunch, and pleasantly converted objective bur- 
den into subjective sustenance. After dinner, our way was 
by the side of the Little River ; and up the valley was to be 
seen a stretch of the Little River Mountains, flanked appar- 
ently by "J 1. 8." Fresh cuttings and recent adjustment 
of directing-signs gave evidence that the path had been very 
lately under supervision. Mr. Lowe soon discovered that the 
route had been somewhat changed, — the new way following 
the river farther, by which means the crossing of a certain 
ridge was avoided, and another ridge was utilized, which led 
directly up toward the top of the North Twin. The waters 
of Little River looked as if they would be an attractive home 
for trout: Some distance up the river is a logging-camp con- 
sisting of several cabins. Not far beyond is a curious bifur- 
cated bridge made of fine, unpeeled spruce logs, — one branch 
of the bridge crossing the river, and the other spanning a 
tributary of it. 

After leaving the river the way was unmistakably upward. 
At half-past four we arrived at the Appalachian Camp of 


1882, and found that although the refreshing rill was in good 
running order, the roofs of both houses were taking a broken 
rest upon the ground. Although it was still early, yet as all 
Appalachians have not the training of camels, and moreover 
cannot subsist on "the pleasures of hope," it was neces- 
sary to stop where we could be sure of water. Mr. Lowe 
and his assistant set to work to construct a shelter out of the 
debris of the two fallen huts. Not far below us sounded the 
music of the Little River, in which one's imagination was led 
to picture dotted notes in the form of trout. Much time re- 
mained before dark ; so the writer followed the rill at the camp 
down to its junction with the river. The clear, sparkling, 
emerald-green water and the rich-looking deep pools seemed 
to give assurance of an abundance of fish ; but although the 
narrator assiduously whipped the river for a third of a mile 
down stream, no greater success was achieved than by the 
castigator of the Hellespont in days of yore. Perhaps the 
altitude was too great, or perhaps the large hotels not very 
far distant may have made away with all the fish. On his re- 
turn to the camp the writer found the shelter completed, and 
preparations for supper well advanced. 

Our night's rest was excellent ; and the next morning, in 
good season, we were on our way up the mountain. About 
seven minutes' walk from the camp the path crosses a second 
little stream, which would do equally well for a camping- 
place, if not better, on account of being nearer the summit. 
At half-past nine we were at the rocky outlook a little below 
the top of the North Twin. Here Mr. Peek found employ- 
ment for his pencil. The Little River Mountains are seen 
admirably, extending from Mt. Hale to "J 1. 8." At a 
quarter after ten we were on the summit of the North Twin, 
enjoying the enchanting prospect. Lafayette and the Hay- 
stack appear in the height of their grandeur. At twenty 
minutes past twelve we were on the top of the South Twin, 
where we took lunch, and feasted upon a spread of maps for 
dessert. The view has not been over-praised ; it is surpass- 
ingly grand, with its multitudes of seductive mountains and 
attractive valleys. When we were at the North Twin the 
sky was flecked with feathery plumes and mottled mackerel- 


backs, presaging a change of weather. Since then the curd- 
ling of the sky had gone on increasing, so that now we felt 
little doubt that waterproofs would be in request before 

From the top of the South Twin our course was by the 
path to Mt. Guyot, to where it turns abruptly to west of 
south. At that point we left it, and directed our course in 
a southeasterly direction toward "J 1. 3." The way was 
rough and overgrown, along a sloping mountain-side, and of 
a character which requires the human dividers to have one 
long and one short limb in order to compass one's designs. 
It was necessary to cross a protruding subordinate ridge of 
Mt. Guyot. This style of travelling did not favor our artist, 
who found the " going " rather irksome. 

At a quarter before four we crossed the upper waters of 
Little River, between a shoulder of Mt. Guyot and the so- 
called " Mt. Thompson." It was decided to encamp here, for 
sufficient time did not remain for ascending the mountain 
and reaching water beyond. Where we selected the site of 
our resting-place were the remains of the shelter and camp- 
fire of some solitary hunter or explorer. Mr. Lowe and 
George busied themselves searching for spruce-trees that 
would still peel, and furnish roofing for our camp. The sky 
was now entirely overcast, and ominous white scud was creep- 
ing along the near shoulder of Mt. Guyot. Before the hut 
was finished, rain-drops began to fall, and their number con- 
tinued to increase. We were glad to establish ourselves 
under the excellent shelter of which Mr. Lowe had been the 
architect, and to enjoy the genial warmth of a generous fire. 
Notwithstanding the wind and rain showed that a storm was 
upon us, we greatly relished our hot tea and cocoa, toast and 
other refreshments, under the spruce shelter. Our sprightly 
Hibernian lad occasionally broke forth into fragments of song, 
— some of the words being familiar verses strangely supple- 
mented. When any of us awakened during the night, the 
weather was uppermost in our thoughts. 

It rained heavily during the night, but in the morning the 
signs were clement, although portentous scud was still cours- 
ing along the sides of Guyot and the Twins. The route the 


writer had intended to take was over " Mt. Thompson " across 
the Zealand Notch, over the two tops of " Mt. Hastings," 
and over Mt. Willey down into the Crawford Notch. The 
threatening weather did not favor carrying out the pro- 
gramme ; so it was decided that we should return by the 
valley of Little River. The writer announced his intention 
of going on the summit of "J 1. 3," rain or shine; and Mr. 
Lowe eagerly responded that he would go also. In coming 
from the South Twin we had noticed a huge slide of broken 
rock of slate-colored hue, extending far up the side of 
" J 1. 3," and of considerable width. Our course was to the 
right of this, and toward the point where we had observed 
the summit to be. At first the trees were of considerable 
size, but continuous climbing for a little over half an hour 
brought us among much smaller growth and large fragments 
of moss-covered rock. The scrub became rather plentiful 
near the summit, but the passage through it was not difficult. 
In just an hour and five minutes after leaving the camp we 
stood on the summit, and the sun came out brightly overhead 
to welcome us. All around us was in cloud, so none of the 
surrounding eminences could be seen. On every side the 
ground sloped away from us, so we felt well assured that we 
were on the top ; but all doubts were removed by seeing at 
our side a small tree bearing a neatly carved inscription, 
"A. M. F., 1872." Who was this Appalachian Mountain 
forester? Perhaps he was the person whose camp we had 
found when locating our own. The bright sun did not stay 
long, and we were shortly more and more in nvhibu%. The 
view was surely missed, and had to be pictured in our imagi- 
nations, — the topography being based on our maps. In 
place of the Twins across the valley, wo found a multitude 
of beautiful, late-blooming twin-flowers at our feet. 

The summit was found to be 574 feet (aneroid measure- 
ment) below that of the South Twin. This estimate is based 
upon the observations made at Twin Mountain Station in the 
transit over the Twins and the return to Twin Mountain 
Station, tempered by an examination of the storm-disturbance 
as indicated by the barometric record on Mt. Washington. 
Taking Professor E. C. Pickering's height of the South Twin 


as found by micrometer level as a criterion, the altitude of 
"J 1. 8," according to my observations, is 4,348 feet. 

It took about three quarters of an hour to descend, and on 
our way down we passed some curious large fragments of 
rock. Two hours was the time which had been allotted for 
the climb, and just as that period elapsed a mountain-call 
was made to notify our companions of our near approach. 
The reply came from only a very short distance away. It did 
not take long to arrange our packs and to suppress the 

Our course was now down the valley of Little River, selecting 
the best walking we could find, and crossing the stream once 
in a while when such a course promised advantages. The 
pools looked so tempting that Mr. Lowe thought he would try 
to entice a trout to rise. On throwing some bits upon the 
water, he thought that one fish did respond; but even the 
luscious borer-worms found in the bark of a decaying spruce- 
tree did not persuade the trout to come forth. As the way 
was down hill and the undergrowth generally rather open, we 
made good progress. We had left our camp at thirty-five 
minutes after ten, and reached the logging-camp far down the 
Little River at a little before three o'clock. Here we rested 
and lunched. We had proposed to have hot coffee, for the 
wet bushes had made us damp and chilly ; but the stove-pipes 
had been carefully removed. We did not kindle a fire, for it 
was not necessary to show that smoking can be done either 
with or without a pipe. As we wished to catch the train for 
Jefferson which left Twin Mountain Station at eight minutes 
before five, we were not able to stop long. It was necessary 
for us to travel more rapidly than we had been going, and the 
familiar wood-road upon which we now were greatly facilitated 
our exertions. The depot was reached many minutes before 
the train arrived. A fire in one of the cars added to our com- 
fort by its grateful warmth. Messrs. Peek and Lowe spent 
the night at the " Traveller's Rest," a little over a mile beyond 
Jefferson Station on the road to Randolph. The lively Prince 
Edward Islander and the writer walked on to Randolph, — 
he stopping at Mr. Lowe's house, while the narrator arrived at 
the Ravine House between nine and ten in the evening. 


In order to increase his knowledge as to these mountains, 
the writer ascended Mt. Willey on the 3d of September. 
There he spent a charming day, with maps spread out 
before him, revelling in the interesting topography of the 
region. The Little River Mountains are overtopped at either 
end by Mt. Hale and " J 1. 3," and seem to have more the 
character of a scalloped connecting ridge than to be a succes- 
sion of individual peaks. It seems as if the views obtained in 
a transit over these summits would be chiefly prized on 
account of their rarity, — as the ridge appears to be thickly 
wooded, and as they are overtopped on one side by the Twin 
Range and on the other by that of Willey. Professor Picker- 
ing gives the height of " K 3. 2 " (the higher summit of the 
so-called "Mt. Hastings") as 8,760 feet. These eminences 
do not seem to deserve a distinguishing name, for they are 
merely outlying bulges belonging to the Willey Range ; they 
are apparently densely wooded. On his descent from Mt. 
Hale in 1882, the narrator passed down the chief wood-road 
of the Zealand Valley. Great havoc had then been accom- 
plished upon the forest, and since then the active Zealand 
Mill has extended the devastation much farther. From the 
form of the mountains which make the New Zealand Notch, 
it does not seem as if the view there could be remarkable 
either for beauty or grandeur. Some bare rocks are to be 
seen on the long slope of " J 1. 3," towards the Notch ; and 
the mountain itself appears to advantage as a buttress formed 
by the junction of the Little River Mountains with an offset of 
Mt. Guyot and the Twin Range. 

The Crater of Mt. Misery, St. Kitts. 

By Lucy A. Putnam. 


Mt. Misery is the most northern active volcano in the long 
chain that bounds the Caribbean Sea on the east, beginning 
with the extinct craters of Saba and St. Eustatius on the 


north, culminating in Morne Diablotin (Morn Jablotin), 5,314 
feet high, on the island of Dominica, and graduallj diminishing 
in height again as they approach the mainland of South 

The mountain stands on the northern end of St. Eitts, — or 
St. Christopher, as Columbus called it, when he first sailed 
under its lee, on his second voyage, in November, 1493 ; the 
outline of the mountains suggesting to his imagination, it is 
said, the giant Christopher with the infant Christ on his 
shoulder. The land slopes upward from the shore in all 
directions, — on the north and east, in one long sweep from the 
ocean to the peak of Misery; more gradually on the south 
and west, with the intervening summits of Lambert and 
Pleasant, until the black lava cone is reached, 4,319 feet above 
the sea, overlooking the crater, which is just below it on 
the west 

During our first visit at St. Kitts, on our way down the 
islands, we had a glimpse, though only for a few moments, 
of the cone, — a piece of rare good fortune, for often for days 
and weeks at a time the mountain is hidden in the clouds. 
The ascent of the peak offered a tempting bit of climbing. 
Tlie view, if there was any, would be magnificent, embracing 
not only St. Kitts but all the other islands within a radius of 
many miles. We were anxious also to see the virgin forests — 
the " high-woods," as the natives call them — through which 
we should pass; and what we had heard of the difficulties of the 
climb only increased our desire to reach the summit and look 
down into the crater below. We determined that when we 
came back, if the steamer only lay at St. Kitts long enough, 
we would make the ascent. Five weeks later, on the 29th of 
March, we again sailed into the harbor of Basseterre, where 
the "Barracouta" was to remain for at least four days, giving 
us ample time for our expedition. 

It was easier to find a guide than we had expected. A 
gentleman to whom we had been introduced kindly offered 
to engage for us a man who frequently took parties monkey- 
shooting on the mountains, and who knew more about Misery 
than any one else on the island. We learned with a good 
deal of disappointment that it is considered impossible to go 


from the peak to the crater, and we were assured that it was 
the crater that we ought to visit. It is a long, tiresome 
climb to the summit of the cone, with probably nothing 
gained when you get there, except the right to say that you 
have been. The crater, though equally hard to reach, is far 
better worth the effort. Every one whom we met on the 
island told us, though with how much truth I am not pre- 
pared to say, that it is nearly, if not quite, the most perfect 
in the world. They are very proud of their crater, the inhabi- 
tants of St. Kitts, though so few of them have ever seen it. 
But they are dreadfully afraid of the difficulties that await the 
adventurous climber, and every effort was made to induce us 
to give up our plan. We had no conception, they said, of 
what we were undertaking. But we had had excellent train- 
ing during the last five weeks, and felt that we were quite 
equal to whatever might be before us. Our guide was to 
be engaged for the next day ; so we hastened to secure a boat, 
and one of the two carriages of which the town boasts, to take 
us to Sandy Point, twelve miles away, where the path to the 
crater begins. A solemn promise of punctuality was exacted 
from boatmen and driver, and we went back to the steamer to 
tell what we meant to do. 

Great was the captain's dismay when he heard our story. 
Something would surely happen to us. Not long before, three 
young men, passengers on the " Barracouta," had ascended 
the peak, been lost in the clouds, and forced to spend thirty- 
six hours on that rocky cone, with nothing to eat and only a 
small canteen of water. A similar fate would be ours ; and 
then the steamer would be delayed, for he could not go back 
to New York and say that he had left four of his passengers 
somewhere, nobody knew where, on the mountain. But it 
was too late to make us give up the idea ; and the doleful 
stories tliat he told at dinner of the difficulties and dangers 
of climbing in the tropics fell on heedless ears. At an early 
hour we turned in, as a good preparation for the next day. 

The order was given that night that we should be called at 
three o'clock ; and twenty minutes after three we met in 
tramping-costume in the dining-saloon. The steward had 
hot coffee and bread and butter waiting for us, and was 


packing a lunch that looked as if he did not expect to see 
us again for at least a day and a half. Our boatmen had 
been waiting since three o'clock. As we went over the 
ship's side, several sleepy-looking individuals appeared on 
deck to wish us good luck, or to express in somewhat forcible 
language their opinion of four enthusiasts who could leave 
their comfortable berths at that hour in the morning for any- 
thing so unsatisfactory as mountain climbing. As we rowed 
under the stern, a head appeared at one of the ports, and a 
voice said that when we came back we should probably be 
Les MisSrablea for more reasons than one. 

From nowhere does St. Kitts appear to so good advantage 
as from the harbor, and the view that night could hardly be 
surpassed in all the Antilles. The moon gave to the town 
a charm unknown by day, for West Indian towns are rarely 
picturesque. They are simply dirty, and Basseterre is far 
from being an exception to the rule. The gray mist that at 
night had settled over the mountains was already beginning 
to roll up into light fleecy clouds, showing us the dark woods 
beyond the cane-fields. Lower down, on the slopes of Mt. 
Pleasant are the sugar-mills and planters' houses, hidden 
among trees, and surrounded by rows of royal palms, straight 
and smooth as white marble columns, with feathery green 

As we walked up the pier, I wondered how long we should 
have to wait before our deliberate driver would put in his 
appearance. I decided, from knowledge gained by experience, 
that we might congratulate ourselves if we left Basseterre at 
seven ; but as we went under the archway into the Square, my 
faith in West Indian promises went up, and I began to think 
it more than possible that we might even find our guide 
waiting for us at Sandy Point, for there on the curbstone 
sat our driver, fast asleep, his dejected-looking little horses 
equally oblivious to all around them. 

It was just four o'clock as we drove out of Basseterre. The 
road wound along the foot of the mountains, up hill and down, 
as it crossed the deep ravines on their slopes. On each side 
were cane-fields, and below us, along the beach, with the sea 
for a background, stood rows of slender cocoa-palms, their 


dark tops gleaming like silver in the moonlight. Early as it 
was, we met negroes, carrying fruit and vegetables on their 
heads to market. Such happy, careless faces as the negroes 
have ! They have nothing in the world to do but enjoy life 
like the monkeys. No clothes are needed, and few are worn. 
Crimson hibiscus and La France roses hedge their little 
gardens; gorgeous bougainvillia cover their squalid little 
cabins, and their daily bread grows on a tree by the roadside. 
The bread-fruit tree is the bane of the planters throughout 
the Antilles; and in the southern islands, where there are 
crown lands, the negroes squat in the bush, raise bananas 
and bread-fruit, and will not work ; and fine estates go to 
decay often solely for want of laborers. 

A little after six we reached the plantation, fifty feet above 
the beach, where we were to leave the carriage and where our 
guide was to meet us. The manager urged us to breakfast 
with him before beginning our climb ; but in that latitude an 
early start was desirable, and we only waited until our guide 
appeared, bringing with him two little boys to carry our traps. 
He was an intelligent-looking negro, a wood-chopper on the 
mountain, and had made many visits to the crater. 

It was twenty -five minutes past six when we left the house. 
The manager offered us one of the heavy, springless mule- 
carts used in the cane-fields to take us to the end of the plan- 
tation road, a distance of half a mile; but we had ridden in 
that sort of cart before and preferred to walk. The road 
through the plantation was a good one, and an easy grade; 
beyond that a steep path leads straight up the mountain-side 
to the woods. Every inch of cleared ground beyond the 
plantation is owned by the negroes, who raise yams, sweet 
potatoes, cassava, plantains, and bananas ; and often it seems 
as if they must be forced to go on their hands and knees to 
till their little gardens, so steep are some of the cultivated 

Just below the timber-line we passed several grass huts. 
These are used by the men who spend the night on the moun- 
tain to protect the crops from the monkeys. St. Kitts is 
one of the four islands in the Lesser Antilles where monkeys 
are found. They are very numerous, and in the early morn- 


ing come down in troops from the woods and ravage the plan- 
tations. There is a popular belief among the negroes, that 
they have access to a submarine passage to Nevis, six miles 

At the edge of the woods we paused to rest and enjoy 
the view. Two thousand feet below us was the little town 
of Sandy Point. In the harbor the "Barracouta," wliich had 
come down for sugar, was dropping anchor. Ten miles away 
was tho. truncated cone of St. Eustatius ; and beyond, in the 
distance, the blue outline of Saba, ending in the north the 
chain of volcanic islands. 

The path through the woods was steep, and often damp and 
slippery, for but little sunlight penetrates the thick foliage. 
Every inch of ground is covered with ferns and lycopo- 
diums. The trees are smothered by orchids, air plants, and 
vines; and begonias and crotons grow everywhere in rank 
profusion. It was impossible not to linger among such beau- 
ties, and we were quite willing to follow our guide's advice, 
" Walk a bit and rest a bit," with a good deal of resting. We 
lay down among the ferns without fear of snakes or insects. 
There are plenty of both on all the islands, but we always 
found them very retiring in their dispositions. I suppose it 
is a sign of a poor traveller, but we came home from the 
West Indies without a snake story to tell. Coral and whip 
snakes are found in Trinidad : we did not see one, though 
we took long walks in the woods and climbed nearly every 
hill on the island. Huge pythons are often found at the 
Pitch Lake : there were none there the day we went. St. 
Lucia is infested by a snake whose bite is certain death, and 
that within a few seconds ; but though we climbed the Morne 
back of Castries, in fear and trembling it must be confessed, 
M. le Per de Lance did not deign to show himself. 

As we went higher up on the mountain, into the region of 
almost perpetual clouds, we found tree-ferns and that loveliest 
of all the palms, the mountain cabbage. The clouds were 
unusually high on Misery that day, and we did not find our- 
selves surrounded until we reached the narrow ridge con- 
necting the spur we had been climbing with the mountain 
itself. There we had our first view since entering the woods. 


On both sides we could look down, through the mist and the 
scrubby moss-covered trees, upon the sunlit cane-fields, with 
the ocean beyond ; the Caribbean Sea on our right ; the open 
Atlantic on the left, with the hills of St. Martin and St. 
Bartholomew in the distance. We hurried along the ridge 
and up a steep path through the high-woods again, urged on 
by our guide's assurance that we were almost there. The 
trail ended at last in a small clearing at the edge of a pre- 
cipitous slope, the western rim of the crater. This is the 
goal of most visitors to the moimtain. There they turn 
back, content with such glimpses of the gulf below as the 
clouds and trees will allow them to get, and call it " going 
to the crater." 

It was a quarter before nine, two hours and twenty minutes 
since we left the plantation ; and we found that we were very 
hungry. Fifteen minutes later a much lighter basket was 
carefully hidden in the bushes, and we prepared to descend. 
Our guide looked somewhat doubtfully at us, and said that 
the lady must go next to him. It was " a much of a climb," 
but she must not be " afeared." It looked indeed " a much of 
a climb; " and for one awful moment the thought arose, " If we 
get into that hole, shall we ever get out again ? " But once 
fairly on the way down, it was easier than it looked. The 
trees are so thick that, steep as the incline is, it was only 
once or twice that we caught a glimpse of what looked like 
a green meadow far below ; but there is no under-brush 
to struggle through, and the twisted roots make secure 
footholds. Slipping, scrambling, clinging to the lianes, we 
reached the bottom. 

It is easy to use superlatives in describing mountain views ; 
but I never expect to see anything more beautiful in its way 
than the scene around us as we came out of the woods into 
that vast amphitheatre. The crater is a mile long from north 
to south, half or two thirds as broad ; a great oval bowl, 
eight hundred feet deep. From the lake and the level 
meadow that form the bottom of the basin, the unbroken 
wall rises almost perpendicular, covered with green from base 
to rim. Even in a country where Nature is always lavish, we 
were struck by the variety and brilliancy of the foliage. The 


tree-ferns especially attracted our attention. They grow only 
in damp, cool woods, and here in the home of the clouds they 
are luxuriant. 

On the eastern wall is the peak, a sharp cone of black lava, 
partly covered with dark green scrub, and several hundred 
feet higher than the ridge. This is the only marked irregu- 
larity in the edge of the crater. The western rim dips fully 
two hundred feet ; but the slope is so gradual that from the 
bottom, six hundred feet below, it is scarcely perceptible. In 
mentioning heights and distances I do not speak with any 
degree of certainty. Accurate measurements have been 
taken, but I was not able to obtain them from a reliable 
source ; and I can only quote the figures given by our guide. 
Tliey agree substantially with those given me later by some 
English residents of the island. 

In the extreme northern end of the crater is the last trace 
of life that gives to the mountain its claim to the distinction 
of activity. I have spoken of Misery as an active volcano, 
solely because it is called so on the island ; slumbering, if not 
extinct, would describe it better. All that remains of what 
was probably once a souffri^re like that of Guadaloupe or St. 
Vincent, is a steaming sulphur-bed a few rods square. We 
burned our shoes and blistered our fingers collecting speci- 
mens of the white limestone covered with yellow needles of 
crystallized sulphur. Puffs of hot air and steam issue from 
the holes among the rocks, and near by are several boiling 
springs. The water is strongly impregnated with sulphur, 
though not a trace of it is found in the lake. In one of these 
springs a party of negroes, who had come to spend their 
Easter holiday in the crater, were cooking yams. It is a 
favorite picnic-ground with them ; and they have a keen ap- 
preciation of the wonder, if not of the beauty, of the place. 

On the western shore of the island, two miles from Sandy 
Point, is an isolated limestone hill eight hundred feet high. 
It has been shown, by careful measurement, that this hill 
would exactly fit into the crater ; and the negroes will tell you 
that once there was no crater, but long ago, longer than any 
one can remember, there was a great earthquake, and the 
whole top of the mountain was blown up into the air, turned 

208 oy SNOW-SHOES at jackson. 

over in its flight, and landed upside down on the beach, miles 
away from the mountain of which it was once the summit. 
Perhaps its name, Brimstone Hill, is commemorative of the 
forces that sent it on such a journey. 

Whatever the negroes might think of the sulphur springs, 
to us they were far less interesting than the crater itself ; and 
we went back through the long grass to the edge of the lake, 
where the finest view is obtained. There we would gladly 
have lingered. It was the loveliest spot we had seen in all 
the islands, and we were loath to leave it after but little more 
than an hour's enjoyment ; but the clouds were beginning to 
come down upon us, and our view was spoiled. Reluctantly 
we pulled ourselves out of the crater and started down the 
mountain. It was cool, almost chilly, in the woods ; but the 
heat was intense when we reached the open fields, and we 
were glad enough to rest in the shady dining-room at the 
plantation, where luncheon and a hearty welcome were await- 
ing us. Green cocoa-nuts, *^ sling" fresh from the sugar-mill, 
and other dainties soon had such an exhilarating effect that 
we felt that our day would not be complete without a visit to 
Brimstone Hill, which two of our party had never seen. We 
walked up the old artillery road to the ruins of Fort George, 
once the strongest fortress in the West Indies, but now oc- 
cupied only by monkeys. 

The " Barracouta " was still lying at Sandy Point when we 
came down; so we dismissed our carriage and went on board, 
hot and dusty, but thoroughly self-satisfied, having been gone 
just thirteen hours. 

On Snow-shoes at Jackson. 

Bt John RiTcmx, Jb. 

The beauties of the White Hills from the sleigher's point 
of view have been noted in a previous paper in Appalachia ; ^ 
but so different are the elements of that nearer acquaintance 

I Vol m. No. 1. 


with the mountains in winter which is possible only on snow- 
shoes, that I am tempted to recount some of the pleasant ex- 
periences of our Appalachian winter-party of snow-shoers in 
February last at Jackson. 

A flourishing section of the Club had already been formed, 
including some forty members ; and quite a number of trips 
had been taken about Boston, even in snow unsuitable for the 
sport. Having thus acquired some familiarity with the de- 
mands of snow-shoeing, and some notion of the exercise and 
fun connected with it, we hailed with delight the opportunity 
afforded by the winter excursion of the Club. In number we 
had hardly a representative Appalachian excursion ; but with 
the President of the Club, its Secretary, a quorum almost of 
the Council, and a majority of the Excursion Committee, we 
made up abundantly in quality and in dignity what we lacked 
numerically. Moreover, there was good faith on the part of 
the Excursion Committee, who showed their willingness to 
take themselves the dose prescribed by them for others. 

The journey northward, familiar enough to Appalachians, 
presented little more than a succession of superheated cars, 
a series of ten-minute waits presumably for refreshments, and 
a country giving evidence on every hand of the fall of heavy 
snows. Chocorua seemed more a junior Matterhom than ever ; 
its rugged, crooked form made more striking by the contrast 
of its snowy ravines. At North Conway our sleigh was in 
waiting, and we sped up from the station, through the pine 
woods to the east of the railroad (a way practicable in summer 
only to the pedestrian), past cold, bleak Intervale, through 
Lower Bartlett, where already preparations were on foot to 
catch the coming guest, across the whitened plains where the 
fences barely peeped above the level snow, by Glen Station, 
through Jackson City, to Mr. Gale's home, — our way ever 
a series of delights realized and delights anticipated; for 
snow, snow-shoe snow, was everywhere, and we were all " old 

" Old men " and " snow-shoers " have come to be synonymes 
with us, and for this reason. A number of us, mostly young 
bearded men, were snow-shoeing together one bitter day last 
winter, and through the freezing of the breath to our beards, 



we became, in face at least, couuterparts of the conventional 
Saint Nicholas. As a sleigh passed the road at a little dis- 
tance from us, it became evident that we were the subject of 
remark. A turn in the road exposed our faces to the gaze of 
the sleighers, and we caught the one remark, in a high femi- 
nine voice, " And they 're all old men." The application was 
evident. Since that day we have been " all old men." 

The most striking landscape eifect noticeable was the 
whiteness of the mountains. On a previous trip to this very 
section I had been much disappointed to find the hills brown ; 
for the snow, sifting through the trees, leaves them exposed 
to view. But now all was different. The branches of all the 
trees and the little tips of the evergreens had received a coat- 
ing of ice, and upon this a quantity of snow had fallen ; so 
that from every point of view the whiteness of the hills was 

Our rooms at the Eagle Mountain House, the parlor, and 
the halls were exceedingly comfortable, thanks to frequent 
stoves and an abundance of wood. This fact I wish to em- 
phasize, because fear of cold rooms is a serious bugbear. At 
Mr. Gale's we had not one uncomfortable moment. The 
dining-room had a large wood stove; the parlor, one even 
larger, and an open fireplace. — the latter for appearance' 
sake, it was said ; but we found its sharp heat to be admira- 
ble for drying coats, clothes, and over-shoes, while the lambre- 
quin above it sported an ever-varying, never-ending fringe of 
drying gloves. Our rooms were well provided with stoves, and 
the one in the hall was fed with full-length cord wood. 

The day after our arrival at Jackson was devoted to Mt. 
Willard. The air was clear, not too cold ; and views on eveiy 
hand were superb. The hard lines of the mountains were 
strengthened by their contrast with the snow. Two masses 
of white marked the cascade ravines in the Notch, while the 
carriage-road was indistinguishable. At Crawford's we found 
the snow drifted to the height of the second floor ; the station 
platform was a high snow-bank ; while the train ran in a groove 
in the snow deep enough to be inconvenient to get out of, 
especially with snow-shoes. 

Luncheon disposed of, we donned our shoes and walked 


across the dreary snow-filled level to the base of Mt. Willard. 
There was no mistaking the road; and when once a leader had 
gone on, a blind man almost could have followed the track. 
Herein lies one beauty of winter expeditions in a wild and 
especially a wooded country. Any unable to keep up with the 
rest can fall behind with absolute security from losing the 
path either forward or backward. It raises the speed of pro- 
gress from that of the slowest almost to that of the fastest. 
It relieves the leaders of that responsibility which in track- 
less summer forests is most urgent and trying, the risk of 
losing some person in the woods. 

The carriage-road up Mt. Willard was filled with snow, — a 
fact which became the more evident when branches which in 
summer must clear the wagon tops swept off our hats or 
punched us amidships. Another evidence was given when a 
snow-shoe came off, and the liberated foot sought mother 
earth to the fullest extent that its limiting circumstances 
permitted. One of the party notes that during a quick de- 
scent of the mountain, — with a record, by the way, fully equal 
to that of a summer showering party over the same course, — 
he twice inadvertently performed the feat technically termed 
a " dive," but neither time could he touch bottom. The sum- 
mit of Mt. Willard was warm and comfortable, and we stayed 
on the top upwards of an hour. The view was extended, 
fully as much so as in summer; and for a time, while the 
clouds lifted, the Presidential Range, so far as visible from 
this point, was clear. 

Next day our goal was Tin Mountain, one of the three 
summits across the valley from Mr. Gale's. Here was illus- 
trated another particular wherein mountaineering in winter 
is widely different from that in summer, — the ascents are, 
if anything, easier. This may not be strictly true on steep 
slopes ; but the streams being sealed, the gullies filled, and 
slopes made more sloping, a direct attack may be made upon 
the desired stronghold, without preliminary skirmishes with 
woods and courtesies with brooks. From the river at Mr. 
Gale's to the peak of Tin, we hardly diverged from a straight 
line ; there were no detours to make, no fence gaps to seek. 

I do not think that any of us knew just what the back of 


Tin was like ; so there was a spice of adyenture in the descent 
A series of inclines, down which we coasted, became more and 
more steep until we scuttled from tree to tree like children at 
their games, with a dash of uncertainty of issue pervading 
the whole proceeding. Sometimes the tables were turned, and 
it was the tree which caught the man. I know that I picked 
the Engineer out of a tree, where he was hanging turkey-like 
by his feet, with his head down the slope ; and before long I 
found the Skee-man hung up in a tree to dry, and by a slight 
detour was able to save him. From the base of Tin we 
ascended the hill between it and Thorn, — called by some 
Middle Mountain, — and in a driving snow-storm, the only 
unpleasant weather of the trip, cut across the country by the 
straightest line for the Eagle Mountain House. 

Speaking of the Skee-man reminds me of the skees. A 
party which visits Mr. Gale's once or twice each winter has 
a decidedly Norwegian flavor, and a pair of skees are among 
the legacies to which he has fallen heir. These add additional 
picturesqueness to his front snow-bank, and raise it above the 
ordinary level of the neighboring ones, which sprout only com- 
mon hunter's shoes. If you imagine a hogshead stave eight 
feet long, turned up a little at the toe, flat and polished on the 
bottom, and furnished with a little leather toe-hold about the 
middle of the top side, you have a notion of the skee. 

We did not have the leisure to master these foreign shoes, 
nor was there any one handy familiar with their use, to in- 
struct us ; but we did experiment enough to learn that there 
is a great deal of fun to be had with them, while they afford 
ample opportunity to study the principles of mathematics and 
physics. When the skees mark out for themselves divergent 
tracks, and are permitted to follow their divided purposes, the 
resultant force is always in the vertical and downward. 
When this fact has been proven experimentally, the skees, 
freed from their limiting tendencies, skim like birds over the 
snow to the lowest possible level, each after its own fancy, 
formiug in a twinkling an isosceles triangle with the late pas- 
senger at the apex. What to do under these circumstances is 
a problem. At Jackson there was usually the choice of wad- 
ing in the deep snow, rolling on the light crust, going around 


bj the road, or having some one on snow-shoes assemble the 
separated elements. Tlie latter course is most easy for the 
skee-er; and one afternoon I performed missionary work 
amounting to a good deal more than the walk up Mt. Willard, 
in getting the Skee-man and the skees together after their 
periods of dissipation, so to speletk. Then again on rises 
there come places where the shoes barely hold, where to move 
forward is to invite a slip backward to the point of beginning, 
and to turn is not easy. In such cases a snow-shoer and a 
pole proved quite convenient to tow the Skee-man to some 
safe level. At Jackson the feat of feats was to skee down 
the toboggan slide. Our Skee-man tackled the chute early in 
the trip, and after three or four trials had mastered it. To 
him afterwards the toboggan seemed but a tame affair. 

A bright sky the next day induced us to go to Prospect 
Farm. Mr. Gale, by dint of skilful driving, managed to land 
us at the upper farm-house. Hall's Ledge, a short distance 
away, commands the Pinkham Notch road, and is directly 
before the Presidential Range, with only the narrow valley 
intervening. From the farm itself the view is fine, embrac- 
ing all the mountains of the Conway section, those passed 
by the railway almost to Crawford's, the more distant Cho- 
coma and Tripyramid, and even to Red Hill, near Lake 

A logging company is at work in Carter Notch, and camps 
and mills are here located. These were interesting to visit. 
The route by which the Notch is reached in winter is widely 
different from that of the summer. From the camp, we kept 
directly up the stream. The snow was many feet deep, and 
the river was pretty much like all the rest of the country, the 
air-holes being the only evidence of its presence. These 
holes — veritable wells with snowy walls — were ten or twelve 
feet deep; the sides were smooth and vertical, the form 
rounded, and at the bottom prettily fringed with icicles. Up- 
ward we went, with just such variation from a straight course 
as was needed to avoid these wells, for more than half the 
distance. Then came the steep slopes of the head wall. 
Digging out Jock Davis's camp was good exercise ; but the 
attempt to boil water on the stove was not so entei*taining. 


One hour and three quarters was the time it took us to boil 
enough snow water to make a quart of coffee, so ill adapted 
were the utensils and the firewood for the purpose, and so 
quickly did the water give out its heat to the frigid atmos- 
phere of the camp. But it was ready just in time to cheer 
the return of those who had pushed on in an attempt to climb 
the Dome. The steep part to Pulpit Rock was accomplished, 
and there remained only the long slope of the Dome itself; 
but the time that would have been necessary to traverse this 
was wholly lacking. We were easily back at the logging- 
camp at the hour agreed upon, and found Mr. Gale awaiting 
us. The ride down to the hotel in the early dusk — a race 
with the darkness, as it were — was a race indeed. 

The fourth day of our stay was devoted to Double-head, 
which for a low mountain is a good climb on a summer's day. 
Here were the most glorious views of our stay. Everything 
was clear, excepting Washington ; and this was fringed with 
light vapors which softened but did not obscure its outlines. 
These clouds, white as the driven snow, peered above the 
ravine walls in ever-flhifting forms. The houses, the gulfs, — 
all the details were clear, but fringed and flecked with spots 
of flying mist. 

Iron Mountain proved an inviting excursion for the last 
morning of our stay. 

To sum up the results of our experience, winter is well 
adapted for mountain excursions. The air is clear and the 
views surpassingly fine. Mountain forms, relieved of the 
masking of the trees, are more prominent, and can be studied 
to better advantage. It seems as if winter should afford a 
more advantageous time than summer for those seeking the 
best paths to mountain summits. The gullies filled with snow 
mark the watercourses, while the trend of the principal ridges 
is evident upon casual inspection. Then again winter weather 
is suitable for climbing; the violent exercise, which causes 
much discomfort on sultry days, is little more than is needed 
for comfort in cold weather. Snow-shoeing has, it is true, 
some disadvantages as compared with walking on the ground ; 
but the directness of the path, as a rule, more than compen- 
sates for these. In the light of our experience at Jackson, it 


is safe to say that the lower mountains and the ascent into 
Carter Notch were as easily accomplished as if it were sum- 
mer, while our novel sensations in the woods in winter went 
far towards making our expedition a success. 

An Exploration in the Pilot Range. 

Third Pap«r.i 

By William H. Peek. 

Probablt many who on summer afternoons have travelled 
on the road from Berlin Falls to West Milan have looked with 
interest at the mountains west of the Ammonoosuc River, and 
may have noticed the form of several of the eminences, which 
on their southern sides are quite precipitous, while their 
northern slopes are very gradual in their descent. In the late 
afternoon the low sunlight gilds the usually dark, frowning 
porphyritic cliflFs, and makes them vermilion, orange, and 
ultramarine. As the traveller passes on his way, these sum- 
mits retire one behind the other, in a way that makes one want 
to know more of their surroundings. 

Again, if one travels by the Grand Trunk Railway from 
Milan Water to West Milan, where the river and the road 
turn to the westward, and then proceeds towards Groveton, 
he loses sight of these " Peaked Hills," but obtains a view of 
the main range of the Pilots till it is hidden by Location 
Hill and by Mill Mountain for a* time, while the lovely Percy 
Peaks and other northern heights please the eye. It would be 
strange if the mountain4over did not wish to penetrate these 
seldom trodden solitudes, and see what more they would show 
to the persistent explorer. 

For our party the region had an added interest, as it was 
the extreme northeasterly section of the Pilot Aggregation, — 
the part which we reluctantly passed on our left hand, on our 
first trip over the Pilot Mountains proper, and the only part 

» See Appalachia, vol. iv. p. 219; vol. v. p. 30. 


left unvisited by us, except the outlying height of Cape Horn 
to the extreme west. So when on the afternoon of July 23, 
1888, our party, consisting of Mr. E. B. Cook and the writer, 
with our friends Mr. W. S. Hunt, of Lynn, and Mr. B. Cutter, 
of Winchester, arrived at Stark, we did not even stop to gaze 
at the stupendous ^' Devil's Slide," which was close to us ; but 
seeing at the station our friend Mr. Joseph A. Pike (who had 
with great kindness volunteered to conduct our expedition, 
and had provided an extra man to help carry our baggage), 
we started at once for Mill Mountain. We hoped to be able 
not only to visit this mountain, but after descending it to pur- 
sue our way for an hour or two, before it should be necessary 
to camp for the night. We took the wood-road that ran south 
from the village, and then wound around to the south side of 
the mountain by pleasant and well-worn roads till we came to 
a suitable place to attack its height At this spot we left our 
baggage, and climbed by what Nature had intended for the 
best way ; but recent cuttings had been made, of which our 
guide was not aware, and our course was delayed and ren- 
dered more difficult in consequence. However, we reached the 
view-point in time to enjoy the excellent prospect to the south, 
west, and east. 

The writer had visited the place two years before, assisted 
by Mr. Thomas Pike, the brother of our this year's conductor ; 
and it was with great pleasure that we found him at the sum- 
mit before us. Having heard that we were on our way, he had 
reached the top by an easier route. 

Westward the view from Mill Mountain shows quite clearly 
the summits and the ridges of the main Pilot Range, which 
extends from " Mt. Pilot " proper, to Sebastian Cabot and 
Mt. Ovium. The ridges form the well-marked wall of Mill- 
Brook Basin. Southerly, and at the extreme head of the nar- 
rowing valley, the " Bulge " and the South Peak literally block 
the way. These are overlooked by the mass of Ovium, which 
is nearly south of them, and not far off. The " Bulge " ap- 
pears as a rampart across the valley, but from South Peak 
well-marked spurs nm down and form the eastern side of Mill- 
Brook Basin. To the left are the two Peaked Hills ; and un- 
dulating ridges come from them towards us, even to the foot 


of Mill Mountain. South of the Peaked Hills are the long 
ridges of the two Deer Mountains ; and over their backs in 
fainter color are several small peaks, the highest points of the 
Crescent Range ; then above and beyond these rise the ma- 
jestic White Hills, so massive, and so high by comparison. 
Brought apparently so close together, they are to be seen at a 
glance as one body. 

We remained as long as prudence permitted ; and Mr. Thomas 
Pike, who is proprietor of much of this side of the mountain 
over which we had come, took us down by an easier way, and 
we soon arrived at the place where our baggage was deposited. 
Here we rested for conference and discussion. As the sum- 
mer had been very dry so far, and all the small streams 
seemed to be dried up, it appeared to be very unlikely that 
we should be able to reach any water before dark, and the 
prospect for a comfortable camp and a good supper was bad. 
At last we decided to return to Stark and take a fresh start in 
the morning. Our baggage was carried to a cross-road which 
we were to pass the next day, deposited on a flat rock, and 
covered with the tent, where it lay undisturbed till our 

On our return to Stark Village, we found excellent quarters 
with Mr. Thomas Pike, who has lately opened a house where 
strangers may be entertained. A good supper, excellent con- 
versation, a good bed, and hearty breakfast put us in good 
condition for the next day's work. At an early hour we 
started for " the place with the dreadful name," removing our 
deposit of baggage as we passed, and soon entered a delight- 
ful open forest. Our guide took a southeasterly course, over 
some of the low ridges coming from the south. In two hours 
or more we reached the edge of a deep gorge, into which we 
descended. It is similar in appearance and character to the 
Ice Gulch in Randolph, but of much less depth and extent. 
We went up the gorge for some distance, till we became sen- 
sible of a great change of temperature. Chilly currents of air 
came up from among the bowlders over which we were scram- 
bling, and in the cavities below we found ice and snow in con- 
siderable quantities. The head of the gorge was visited, and 
then we retraced our steps to its lower end. This is what is 


known as the "Devirs Hop-Yaxd." According to one au- 
thority, it is so called from the many dead trees found in it, 
which might possibly be mistaken for hop-poles ; but another 
authority equally good has an equally probable origin for the 
name. It is that his Satanic Majesty, tired of being driven 
from place to place by his pursuers, hid himself in this 
secluded spot, and fell asleep. His enemies discovered him 
in this helpless condition, and began to pelt him with bowl- 
ders ; so the miserable iiend had to hop from one rock to 
another till he had danced out at the lower end of the gorge. 
TUis may or may not be true ; but the writer would suggest 
that if his Majesty has any use for such a thing, the fitting 
name would be "Satan's Refrigerator." We found a small 
brook winding among the bushes below the ice-caves, and fol- 
lowed it half a mile to the edge of a cliff down which it fell. 
We kept near it, and entered a wider and deeper cavity, much 
like one of the chambers of the Ice-Gulch in Randolph. On 
its right side we soon saw a high, frowning cliff of dark rock, 
and really majestic. It intruded on the chamber at its lower 
end, so that we had to pass close enough to it to touch it. 
It was really perpendicular. Beyond the point where we 
passed it the cliff made a sharp turn to the right, while our 
course took us soon to a logging-road which brought us at 
about Jioon to the third object of our visit, — Percy Pond. 
The latter part of our road had offered but little to interest 
us ; so our surprise at the beauty of the scene was the greater. 
The pond — it is a good-sized lake — lay spread out before us. 
Its northern shores were covered with noble woods. To the 
left was Mill Mountain, dark and heavy. Next to the right 
and far beyond it, to the north, was the imposing mass of Long 
Mountain, with some of the azure hue which distance gives. 
Location Hill hid the eastern end of Long Mountain, while it 
repeated on a smaller scale the general form of Mill Mountain. 
In the depression to the right and far beyond, appeared in 
purest azure "Old Speck" himself. Then a much smaller 
hill continued, far to the east, the likeness to Location Hill, 
and indicated the direction of the narrowing water-course 
through Goose Pond and Long Pond to the Ammonoosuc at 
West Milan ; above these shores we saw the well-known peaks 


of Goose Eye. The nearer shores of the pond are covered 
with fine trees. We found, then, that Mill Mountain on 
the north and west. Location Hill on the north and east, 
and the slopes from Green's Hill, and the Peaked Hills on 
the south form the basin of the Percy ponds, — land-locked 
except at the small outlet towards West Milan. We would 
have remained much longer at the pond, if time had permit- 
ted ; but we returned on the road to a convenient dining-place, 
and soon after one o'clock resumed our march up the long slope 
to Peaked Hills. 

The road, good at first, soon entered an overgrown clearing 
which delayed our progress much ; but between four and five 
o'clock we had fine views to the northward from the shoulder 
of Peaked Hill (North), the summit of which we reached after 
a considerable scramble at 5.15 p.m. The south side of this 
hill appears as if it had been pared off with a big cheese-knife, 
and several other hills in this vicinity have a similar appear- 
ance. From this height we had on the left a fine view of the 
mountain of which Green's Ledge forms the southern edge. 
The northern slope must bo 2 J to 3J miles long, and it has no 
distinctive name. Peaked Hill (South) was quite prominent 
a little east of south, and on its right the long slope of Deer 
Mountain came down toward it, but left an opening through 
which we saw with delight the Presidential Range, under a 
lemon-tinted sky, and itself of a peculiarly beautiful color. 
Below these mountains the long Crescent Range lay extended. 
The sky darkened while we looked, a storm threatened, and it 
being so late we gave up our intention of climbing the other 
Peaked Hill, which was very similar to the one on which we 
were, but a little higher. We descended the southeast slope, 
but before we had left the steeper part of the hill the storm 
broke over us. We had some shelter while we waited ; and 
on the rain ceasing, we made our way as we best could through 
half-burned overgrown cuttings for an hour or more, when to 
our delight we reached a splendid growth of spruce, through 
which we followed a road which brought us to water and a 
camping-place. Here we passed the night, after a tiresome 
struggle through the wet bushes. We left camp July 25, 
about 7 A. M. Our excellent guide led us over devious ways. 


bad enough at best (but no doubt the best attainable), towards 
Green's Ledge ; the westerly part of which we scrambled up 
about 11 A.M. The precipice was steeper as we advanced 
along its edge, and just before it turned to the eastward it 
miglit be called frightful. The abyss at our feet and between 
us and Deer Mountain was such as would satisfy most seekers 
of the terrible. The whole view in this direction and from 
the point on which we stood was grand and sombre, rather 
than beautiful. The view of the White Hills is well described 
in Ticknor's Guide ; but we were more struck, as we kept 
on our course eastward, by the magnificence and beauty of 
the view in that direction, that is, to the east and southeast. 
Far below us was a slope of light-leaved forest running to the 
south and eastward to the Ammonoosuc, interrupted on the 
south by a hill somewhat like the Peaked Hills, and called 
Burnt Spruce Knob. Beyond this slope are the meadows on 
the Ammonoosuc, the pastures of Milan and of Berlin, the 
Milan Hills, Gate's Hill or Berlin Heights ; and to the left 
Chickwolnepy, extending a long distance beyond the Andros- 
coggin River. Back of all were the Maine mountains, from 
Bear River White Cap southerly, and including several whose 
appearance seemed strange to us, as we had not seen them be- 
fore from that direction. Far to the southeast or to the 
right Mt. Hayes came into view, with the Shelburne mountains 
over its shoulders. Mt. Forist and part of the Crescents were 
in front of Moriah and the Carters. The writer drew the out- 
lines of the distant mountains with some care, hoping that 
members of the Club might succeed in identifying them all. 

^ The steep clifif of Green's Ledge continues a long way in an 
easterly direction ; but soon after passing the place which Mr. 
Pike pointed out as the crossing of the Kilkenny line,^ the cliffs 
were less conspicuous, and gradually merged in the general 
slope of the mountain ; though for a long distance even on 
the east side, the bare rocks indicate the situation, or the di- 
rection, of the great cutoff. One or two very happy hours 
were passed on these heights, but a hard tramp was yet in 
reserve for us. 

1 The Tisitor may see a small catrn, a few feet fh>m the edge of the predptce, 
which marks the place where the KUkennj line comes up the face of the cliff. 


After leaving the rocky edge of the Ledge, our guide took 
us over ground with which he, as a surveyor, was well ac- 
quainted ; but unfortunately for us, since he had been there 
flie demand for lumber had caused the destruction of the noble 
forest, and left the climber's bane, a young growth of several 
years mixed with debris of the former growth. Thus ob- 
structed, our way was so fatiguing that some of us sighed for 
some kind of a roadway, and Mr. Pike altered his course for 
the nearest logging-way, which was a pleasant change. Find- 
ing water before 2 p.m. our party had dinner, after which IJ 
miles of walking brought us to Higgins' Pond, opposite Hig- 
gins' Mill. Trusting to the guide-book's directions for reach- 
ing Green's Ledge, the writer expected to find it quite easy to 
reach West Milan by way of Higgins' Mill ; but we found the 
distance very long and the way not easy. Mr. Cook, who 
reached the pond first, went up the river to a crossing-place, 
and reached West Milan by the road along the east bank. 
The rest of us went to the dam, and down the side of the 
river to the road which followed the west bank. We reached 
West Milan ^ soon after 4 p.m. The guide-book's directions 
may have been good when written ; but at present it would 
seem to be better to attack the ledge by one of the logging- 
roads running up from opposite West Milan, till compass bear- 
ings became necessary in the clearings. Or if attack be made 
from Higgins' Mill, it would be well to strike for the bare part 
of the mountain on the southeast, rather than to encounter 
cuttings of great extent and difficulty. 

We parted with our friendly guide and his assistant at West 
Milan, and Mr. Cutter took the evening train for Gorham. The 
rest of us enjoyed supper and bed at the Ammonoosuc Hotel. 
The next day Messrs. Cook and Hunt went to Percy and as- 

1 The foUowing measurements were taken with the aneroid daring oar 
trip: — 

MillMoanUin 2,486 feet, Jaly 28 

Ice in Hop- Yard 1,667 „ Jalj 24 

Peaked Hill (North) 2,841 „ 

Percy Pond 1,162 „ „ 

SpmoeCamp 2,124 „ Jaly 26 

Green's Ledge 2,760 „ „ 

West Milan 1,016 „ ,, 

The railroad sanrej makes Stark 972 feet abore the sea. 


cended Long Mountain, the prospect from which gratified them 
much. The writer, having already visited that mountain, pre- 
ferred to spend the day in sketching in the vicinity and as far 
south as the place where we emerged from the wilderness last 

On the succeeding morning we all returned to the Ravine 
House via Gorham, well pleased with our trip, and not averse 
to repose for a while. We were particularly thankful to our 
intelligent and kind friend Pike, who well fulfilled his prom- 
ise to be the Virgil to any Dante we should furnish for a visit 
to ^^ the place of the dreadful name.*' 

Some Adirondack Paths. 

By Fraxk W. Freeborn. 

In Essex County, New York, just within the eastern edge of 
the Adirondacks, lies the township of Eeene. Five miles 
south of Keene Centre lies the village of Keene Valley, or, as 
it was formerly called, Keene Flats. It is reached by stage 
from Westport, on Lake Champlain. The road, twenty-one 
miles long, passes through the pretty village of Elizabeth- 
town, and after climbing a ridge 1,700 feet high, descends 
about 800 feet, turns sharply to the left, and enters the beau- 
tiful valley which gives its name to the village. 

This valley, about six miles long, and generally less than 
one mile wide, is drained by the Ausable River and sur- 
rounded by picturesque mountains, of which the most satis- 
factory for climbing are Baxter, Hopkins, the Giant of the 
Valley, Noonmark, Colvin, and the Gothics. It is the paths to 
the summit of these mountains which I purpose to describe. 

The valley contains three liotels, — the Tahawus House and 
the Adirondack House in the village, and Beede's, three miles 
south, at the upper end of the valley. My starting-point in 
each instance is the Tahawus House. All elevations are 
measured from the sea-level ; that of the Tahawus House is 
1,134 feet. The schedule of time includes all stops made 


simply for rest or breathing-space. The circumstances under 
which each trip was timed, and which determined the pace, 
will be noted in connection with the several excursions. 

There are a dozen or more registered guides in the valley. 
For some excursions their services are indispensable ; for 
others, advisable. For the paths which I am describing, an 
ordinarily experienced woodsman does not need them. The 
paths are all easily followed when once found. To find them, 
however, is not always an easy matter. I lost an hour the 
past sunmier in hunting for that up the Giant, though I had 
been over it a year before. One is easily led astray by the 
new lumber-paths on the lower slopes of this mountain. The 
other hills mentioned are free from this source of error. 


This hill with its three summits lies northeast of the vil- 
lage, and is about 2,600 feet high. A walk of 20 minutes 
either by the road or across the fields brings us to the cottage 
of ^^ Old Mountain Phelps," a superannuated guide, made fa- 
mous by his superior woodcraft and the grateful and graceful 
record of it by Charles Dudley Warner, a former summer- 
resident of the valley. Passing along the cart-path west of 
his cottage, and through a field-gate, we climb at once upon 
an open ridge on our left. We follow this ridge northeasterly 
until, after passing through a small clump of balsams, we 
enter a maple grove and bear to the left up a gentle slope, at 
the top of which we find a worn crossing of a brush fence. 
We cross the open field beyond, bearing not towards its high- 
est point but somewhat farther down to the left, where two 
birches are conspicuous on the edge of the woods by their 
commanding size and the whiteness of their trunks. Close 
by these trees is the entrance to the path. 

In leading a party, mostly of ladies, we were 40 minutes 
from the Tahawus House to this point. The path ascends 
very gradually most of the way ; 85 minutes from the en- 
trance to the woods brings us to a spring under a bowlder at 
the left of the path. The surroundings are muddy ; but the 
water is cold and good, and there is none beyond near the 
path or on the smnmit. We continue our gradual ascent 20 


minutes beyond the spring, and then come to a much steeper 
climb, which brings us in 25 minutes more upon the Balcony, 
a bare ledge on the western summit of the mountain, com- 
manding a valley view unsurpassed in beauty by any among 
the White Mountains. The Giant and its buttresses are 
on the left, Noonmark and the huge mass of Dix at tlie head of 
the valley, and, looking southwest up the long forest-covered 
valley of John's Brook, the eye rests on the shapely cone of 
Marcy, highest of the Adirondacks. 

The middle or highest sunmiit of Baxter is about 100 feet 
higher than the Balcony, and about 20 minutes east of it. 
There is no trail to it, but it is easily reached by keeping on 
the ridge among the open pine woods. The only additional 
view obtained is that of the wider continuation of the valley 
toward Keene Centre, the summit of Whiteface, 18 miles 
northwest, and a near view of the rocky crest of Hurricane, 
close at hand. 

The ascent had occupied 2 hours from the Tahawus House 
to the Balcony ; the return was made in 1 hour 35 minutes. 
The pace was that of the slowest of the party. I left the 
house alone one day at 11 o'clock, spent 15 minutes on the 
Balcony, and was at the house again at 1.15. 


This hill, a spur of the "Giant, rises just southeast of the 
village to a height of 8,136 feet. Its accessibility makes it 
a favorite view-point. The following schedule was made with 
nearly the same party I had led up Baxter. 

Leaving the Tahawus House we go south along the high- 
way, and crossing the Ausable by a new footbridge just be- 
yond the first house on the left, we turn at once to the right 
and follow a carriage-path towards a house at the mouth of a 
lateral valley, and on the edge of the woods, 15 minutes from 
our starting-point. The path begins directly back of the 
house. It ascends steadily and gently, curving gradually 
towards the left, and in 1 hour 35 minutes from the entrance 
to the woods brings us to a good spring. A few rods beyond 
this the path becomes much steeper, and finally comes out 
upon bare ledges. A novice will do well to mark with a 


handkerchief tied to a branch the point where the path 
comes upon the rocks, as the ledges show little or no sign 
of previous travel to guide one in returning. The top of the 
peak is quite bare, and is reached in 85 minutes from the 
spring, making the whole time of ascent from the hotel 2 
hours 25 minutes. 

In a grassy hollow a few rods northeast of the summit is 
a spring or pool of water, brown and swampy, but cool and 
refreshing in case of need. 

Prom this peak the view of the valley is not so good as 
that from Baxter, as it is partly hidden by lower shoulders 
of the mountain. The prospect of the surrounding moun- 
tains, however, is better ; and the mass of the Giant, close at 
hand, is particularly impressive. The principal mountains 
near by, beginning at the left, are the Giant, Dix, Noonmark, 
Nippletop, Golvin. Between the latter and Sawteeth is seen 
the notch through which comes the Ausable River from the 
ponds of the same name ; and its snowy falls gleam in the 
sunlight among the trees. On the right of Sawteeth are 
the grim Gothics and Wolfjaws. Just beyond, Marcy lifts 
its head and right shoulder over a summit of Basin. Next 
Mclntyre, with its very symmetrical subordinate peaks, Wright 
and Clinton. To the right of John's Brook rise Slide and 
Porter ; and farther away, Whiteface, with its graceful, sharp 

In descending, we reached the spring in 20 minutes, the 
exit from the woods in 55 more, and the hotel in 10 more, 
making 1 hour 25 minutes in all. 


This is the highest mountain east of the Ausable, and lifts 
its summit to the height of 4,530 feet. Seen from Beede's, it 
reminds one strongly of Carter Dome, as seen from Carter 
Notch. It has the same rounded top, and holds in its out- 
stretched arms a hollow backed by steep precipices, though in 
the case of the Giant this lap is more completely covered with 
forests. The path ascends on the inner side of the southern 
spur, and after it is once foimd, is easily followed both by the 
foot-worn roots and the blazed trees. 



Prom the Tahawus House we follow the highway south 
about 2^ miles. Just before reaching the ascent to Beede's, 
we take the road diverging to the left over some open 
land. We follow this f of a mile, in the course of which 
we cross two bridges and pass a group of cottages on the 
left. Just bejond these cottages, also on the left, we come to 
a milking-yard enclosed by an open board fence. At the far- 
ther left-hand comer of this are bars leading into the wood. 
The elevation of this point is about 1,250 feet. The distance 
to the summit is called 3 miles. My companion was a man 
of my own physical condition ; the schedule of time includes 
many one or two minute stops in the last two miles, and very 
few in the first. 

Inside the bars the level paths to the right lead in 6 
minutes to two pretty brooks and to Roaring Brook Falls, 
well worth the detour. Leaving these paths for the present, 
we ascend the steep cart-path to the left, which brings us in 
a few minutes to a hilly clearing, planted for the first time 
this year. The Iroad skirts the farther side of it, and turning 
sharply to the right enters a ravine in the woods, swinging 
gradually around to the left. A little over ^ mile, or just 12 
minutes from the milking-yard, we turn into an old timber- 
path diverging by a small angle to the left The entrance to 
it is blocked by a six-inch fallen tree, on the trunk of which is 
a scar marked ^' Giant." A large hemlock standing close by 
has a similar mark. Following this path, overgrown with tall 
weeds, f of a mile or 15 minutes, we reach a corduroy bridge 
about 15 feet long. A rod or two beyond this bridge we enter 
the woods on the left, and following a line of fresh blazes we 
stand in 3 minutes on the bank of the brook, where the 
line of old blazes and the foot-worn trail begin. The old trail 
formerly crossed the brook at this point. The ascent for the 
next hour is steady and moderately steep, and at the end of 
that time we reach a slope where hands and feet are both 
necessary to lift us up the wet slippery rocks, from which the 
heavy moss and loam have been pushed by preceding climbers, 
and to secure our footing on the network of naked roots. After 
30 minutes of careful work we stand on the end of the southern 
spur of the mountain. The slope becomes more gradual, and 


the prospect opens through the scrub, until after 80 minutes 
more we stand on the bare summit. Before enjoying the 
view, most climbers will want to hunt for a very small grassy 
pool of brownish, cool water, about 2 rods northeast of the 
surveyor's signal. 

The prospect from this mountain towards the west is much 
like that from Hopkins ; but its superior eleyation affords a 
fine survey of the eastern part of the State, and overlooks 
Lake Champlain and the Green Mountains. In clear weather 
Mt. Washington also is visible, just to the right of Camel's 
Hump. The view south shows the hilly country about Schroon 
Lake and Lake George. The steep precipice on the front of 
the Giant is much more impressive when viewed from the 
edge than when seen from below. 

Our ascent from the milking-yard had occupied 2 hours 30 
minutes ; in descending, we reach the edge of the brook at the 
old crossing in 1 hour 85 minutes, and the yard in 20 minutes 
more. From there to the village requires about 1 hour, either 
going or returning. 


This mountain stands at the southern end of the valley, and 
is sometimes called Camel's Hump from its resemblance to 
the western profile of its Vermont namesake. It is 8,548 feet 
high, and is quite the most satisfactory point from which to 
view the valley and its rim of mountains. 

We may take the stage from the Tahawus House to Beede's, 
8 miles. Diverging here to the Chapel Pond road, we leave it 
in 5 minutes in front of the last cottage on the right, the 
property of Professor Felix Adler. Crossing or skirting a 
cultivated field beyond, we find the plain entrance to the path 
about 80 rods southeast of the cottage. The path at first is 
broad, and skirts the base of the hill with but little rise, bear- 
ing gradually to the right until in 8 minutes it enters the 
mouth of a deep ravine, with a slender brook, and very abrupt, 
rocky sides. We now climb the steep path on the left of the 
ravine, and in 25 minutes stand on a small, bare ledge, com- 
manding a view of the valley. The path then follows a gently 
rising ridge, thickly covered with small, old balsams ; and in 
22 minutes we reach the foot of a second steep climb. A few 


rods aside from the path, to the left, under the cliff is a good 
spring. Resuming the ascent, a sharp pull of 23 minutes 
brings us to the bare, rocky cap of the mountain, 1 hour and 
20 minutes after entering the woods at the base. As I was 
alone and pressed for time, my pace was rather more rapid 
than comfortable. On my descent I emerged from the woods 
in 50 minutes after leaving the top. Twice as much time 
should be allowed for a mixed party. 

Next to the panorama of this most charming valley, the 
most interesting view from Noonmark, which cannot be got 
elsewhere, is that of Mt. Dix. The dense virgin forest, unbro- 
ken by clearing or pond, sweeps down from the sides of Noon- 
mark across a broad basin about 2 miles wide, and well up on 
the flanks of its mighty neighbor, which rises to the height of 
4,916 feet. Prom no other point are the massive proportions 
of this mountain seen to so good advantage. On the right of 
Dix, and separating it from Nippletop, is the sharply cleft 
notch of Hunter's Pass. The Marcy group, though very 
picturesque as seen from Noonmark, show their magnificent 
proportions and wildness better to an observer on Colvin. 


This mountain, named for the engineer who has done and 
is doing more than any other man to explore and accurately 
map the Adirondack country, is the northeasterly termination 
of the Boreas Range. It rises to the height of 4,142 feet, and 
is conspicuous from Hopkins, Oiant, and Noonmark as forming 
the left wall of the Ausable Notch. At its base, and so close 
that the mountain cannot be climbed on that side, lie the 
Ausable Ponds, the most remarkable in the Adirondacks for 
their combination of beauty and grandeur. They are 1,960 
feet above sea-level, each 2 miles long and connected by a 
winding stream and footpath of 1 mile. The whole basin of 
the ponds with the greater part of the surrounding mountains 
is the property of the Adirondack Mountain Reserve. This 
company a year ago built a most excellent road S^ miles long 
through the hard-wood forest from the highway at Beede's to 
the lower pond. A stage makes two trips a day from the 
village to the pond, 6J miles. 


About \ mile east of the pond, at the highest point of the 
road, we leave the stage and enter on the left a small bight of 
the old road, cut off by the new. We find the footpath a few 
rods in, generally marked by white and yellow cautionary 
placards of the company. The path ascends by a moderate 
slope around the left side of Indian Face and Colvin. Diverg- 
ing paths are marked by sign-boards. A few minutes after 
leaving the road, the trail crosses a brook by a bridge of logs 
just in front of a back shelter built against an overhanging 
rock. In 80 minutes we reach the path to the Wizard's Wash- 
bowl, 5 minutes to the left. In 30 minutes more we leave on 
the left the path to High Falls, 6 minutes away. The trail to 
Fairy Ladder Falls and Nippletop diverges also to the left 5 
minutes farther on. Ascending 35 minutes beyond this fork, 
we skirt a high white cliff on our right, then climb up a steep 
rock about 10 feet high, directly in the path; just beyond, 
under the rocks at our right and within 2 feet of the trail, is 
a small but very good spring, — the last, so far as I know, near 
the path. In 20 minutes from this spring, after passing 
through a short hollow, we reach the summit, which consists 
of a mass of rock so steep that two rude ladders have been 
built to facilitate the ascent. 

The top is cleared. To the south lies Elk Lake and Clear 
Pond, with the shapely Blue Mountain beyond. Close at hand 
on the east, separated from us by Elk Pass, are the shaggy sides 
of Nippletop, 4,684 feet high, which by its nearness hides the 
whole of Dix. Noonmark, Bald (a misnomer), Giant, Hop- 
kins, Hurricane, and Baxter appear in this order, through the 
valley of the Ausable. 

But it is the view to the north which makes the charm and 
grandeur of this outlook. Directly below us, so close that its 
nearer shores are hidden by the trees and cliffs of our observa- 
tory, lies the lower Ausable Pond, its deep, dark waters having 
a gloomy and forbidding look from this height. To the left 
of it, a mile away, lies the upper Ausable Pond, the farther 
end of which shows a yellowish green by reason of its cover- 
ing of lily pads and flowers. Directly over these ponds, 
sweeping up from the forest-covered basin, rise the highest 
and wildest peaks of the Adirondacks. On the right are the 


triple peaks of Wolf jaws, over 4,000 feet high. Next the heavy 
crest and detached peaks of the Gothics, with their nearer 
face almost entirely clear of vegetation, so smooth and steep 
is the light-gray rock. Between us and the Gothics is Saw- 
teeth, covered with woods ; but as its spine is directly toward 
us, we lose its distinctive outline. 

Lifting our eyes again to the Gothics, we see at its left the 
ridge of Saddleback, somewhat foreshortened. Next comes 
Basin with three rough summits, the highest of 4,902 feet. 
The dark, bare, serrated crest of Haystack, 5,006 feet high, 
comes next on the left, having on its right shoulder a sharp 
notch prolonged into a deep and long ravine. Just beyond 
Haystack rises the cone of Marcy, 5,402 feet high, to which 
many would like to restore the Indian name " Tahawus," — 
" cleaver of the clouds." To the left of Haystack and just 
beyond it lies the bare dome of Skylight, 4,977 feet. Of the 
more distant mountains seen from Golvin, Whiteface shows 
its clean peak just at the right of Wolfjaws. 

My companion on the Giant was with me on this mountain. 
Our ascent required 2 hours from the road where we left the 
stage ; our descent, after deducting the time spent in detours, 
occupied 1 hour 10 minutes. 


Taking the stage for Ausable Pond at the Tahawus House, 
we leave it about 1^ miles beyond Beede's, just where a brook 
on the left of the roadside slides and then falls about a foot 
over a smooth granite ledge. Two or three rods farther, and 
just beyond a small gravel-pit, we enter the woods on the 
right. The trail is not very clear, especially at first. It runs 
with but little ascent about west by north, and brings us in 
15 minutes to the Ausable River just above Beaver Meadow 
Falls, which with the deep gorge of the river below well repay 
a visit. A trail has been blazed this season along the river- 
bank from this point to Beede's. Leaving these falls for the 
present, we cross the river by boulders and some convenient 
logs. About 2 minutes after crossing we come upon a beauti- 
ful cascade, 25 feet high, in a brook from a ravine in Wolfjaws. 
We cross the brook just below these falls, and climb with 


hands and feet the steep bank beyond. Here the trail be- 
comes a little clearer, and follows the sound of the brook for 
some time. The ascent is quite rapid, and in 1 hour 25 min- 
utes from the river we reach a ridge at right angles to our 
course and to the main mass of the mountain. The trail 
passes to the right of this, and then creeping along the steep 
flank of the mountain brings us in 25 minutes more to a 
swampy hollow containing a small, grassy pool of brownish 
water, not inviting but satisfying. The rest of the way the 
path is newly cut through scrub, and in 15 minutes we stand 
on the summit, 4,744 feet high. On either side fall away the 
steep, bare ledges, impassable to human feet. To the south 
lies the basin of the Ausable Ponds, and on the north the 
broader valley of John's Brook. The special interest of this 
point of observation, aside from its general wide prospect, is 
the near sight of Basin, Haystack, and Marcy. The last men- 
tioned stands in full sight, and bears on its right and left 
slopes, equidistant from its top, two huge bowlders, clearly 
outlined against the sky. At the right of Marcy, 3 or 4 miles 
farther off, is Mclntyre, 5,201 feet high, second only to Marcy. 
Its outline from this point presents a very graceful pyramid, 
with its two equally graceful and symmetrical supporting 
peaks, Wright and Clinton, on either side. Eighteen miles 
away to the north, beyond the open cultivated land of North 
Elba, lie Mirror and Placid Lakes, with Whiteface rising 4,955 
feet just beyond and at the right. Camel's Hump in Vermont 
appears at the right of the Giant; and Dix shows his pre- 
eminence by lifting his bare, rocky crest directly over Nipple- 
top and Colvin ; while the latter can hardly be distinguished 
against its forest background. 

My companion on this trip was the same as on Giant and 
Colvin. Our ascent from the road required 2 hours 20 min- 
utes; our descent to the same point, 1 hour 85 minutes. 


The Snow-Shoe Section. 

A MEETING of the members of the Club interested in snow- 
shoeing was held Dec. 10, 1886, the result of which was 
the formation of a section. By-laws were adopted at this 
meeting, and action was taken requesting the recognition of 
the section by the Council of the Club. The annual meet- 
ing was held on Jan. 14, 1887, at which the officers of the 
section were chosen ; namely, Chairman, Mr. Rosewell B. 
Lawrence ; Secretary and Treasurer, Mr. John Ritchie, Jr. 
During the winter of 1886-1887 two successful meets were 
carried out; three others which were contemplated lacked 
the very necessary element, snow. 

The second annual meeting was held Jan. 6, 1888 ; the same 
officers being elected for the ensuing year. 

During the season seven snow-shoe meets were successfully 
undertaken, in addition to which members of the section led 
a winter excursion to Jackson, N. H., and successful winter 
ascents of peaks of the White Mountains were accomplished, 
an account of which is elsewhere given in this issue of 
Appalachia. The statistics of the various meets have been 
given to the Club in the report of the Excursion Committee. 

The section numbers forty-six members, of whom twenty- 
six are provided with snow-shoes, and are tolerably familiar 
with their use. 

Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1888. 

By John Ritchie, Jr. 

The preceding Councillor in his last published report sug- 
gested a very important function of the department of Art. 
The collection and preservation of photographs of mountains 
and mountain scenery is a work of scientific value, which in 
all probability, for a time at least, will be that by which this 
department can best assist in the general advancement of the 

ART. 233 

objects of the Club. The photography of the present day, with 
its improved processes, renders it practicable to secure, with 
comparative ease and without previous training, views of 
mountains accurate and valuable. The value of sketches for 
the study of mountain forms is not at all abated ; but the 
modern camera is quick, accurate, and all-searching. There 
is no need of determining the minor details in the field ; but 
the time may be devoted, if necessary or expedient, to the 
rapid collection of material, which at any future time is ready 
for inspection or study. 

The excursion to the comparatively little visited Mt. Wash- 
ington (Massachusetts) has secured to the Club an exceed- 
ingly interesting and valuable series of photographs of the 
Taconic Range, — twenty-six in number. A panorama, lack- 
ing but a few degrees of the complete circle, and showing 
every important mountain in the district, is now in the pos- 
session of tlie Club. 

The difficulty of securing prints during the past rainy sea- 
son has not allowed of more than a beginning in this important 
work, and only one series of views has thus far been mounted. 
Fifteen cameras, to the knowledge of the Councillor, are car- 
ried by Club members, seven of which have already contrib- 
uted to the photographic collections of the Club, and such 
promises of further favors have been secured as will make the 
report of another year, in all probability, a real report of pro- 
gress. Doubtless others of the photographers will be found 
to possess material worthy of preservation. 

During the past year Miss 8. M. Barstow has presented to 
the Club a set of water-color sketches of the Katahdin dis- 
trict, enclosed in the daintiest of painted portfolios. Mr. Wil- 
liam H. Peek presented, at the Glen House meeting, one of 
his paintings, " Mt. Kearsarge." Professor Eraclio Minozzi, a 
member of the Italian Alpine Club, now resident in Boston, 
has presented a plaque, " Monte Afumo," painted by himself. 
Mr. H. A. L. Potter, Jr., Mr. W. R. Davis, and the Council- 
lor have together presented a series of Berkshire photo- 
graphs, taken by themselves this season, — thirty-six views 
in all. 


Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1888. 


Bt F. O. Carpenter. 

The Councillor of Exploration has the honor to present his 
report for the year 1888. 

The explorations carried out by members of the Club during 
the past summer have been both valuable and extensive. It 
is an especial satisfaction to report a careful exploration of 
many of the mountains of Colorado by members of the Club. 
Messrs. P. H. Chapin, C. E. Pay, J. R. Edmands, and G. W. 
Thacher explored the mountains in Estes Park and vicinity. 
Details of some of these explorations have already been given 
to the Club at its meetings, and notes of two of them appear 
in the appendix to this report. 

The great importance of the explorations of Mr. P. H. Chapin 
and the many fine photographs he obtained of the mountains 
and snow-fields deserve special mention. The list, with brief 
notes furnished by him, is as follows : — 

1. Expedition on the Sierra Blanca Range, Fort Garland side.^ 
Result : Several photographs. 

2. Three ascents of Table Mountain (12,000 feet) from Estes 
Park. Results: Satisfactory photographs ; unsatisfactory measure- 
ments for motion of a large snow-field. 

3. Ascent of Lily Mountain (11,000 feet). 

4. Two expeditions to a lake (altitude 11,000 feet) under the 
precipice on Long's Peak. Result : Successful photographs of gla- 
cial lakes and ancient moraines. 

5. Ascent of Deer Mountain (10,000? feet), Estes Park. Re- 
sult : Successful photographs of the Front Range and the foot-hills 
of Estes Park. 

6. Ascent of Ypsilon Peak.* 

7. Second visit to the Hallett Glacier, with ascents of West Peak 
of Mummy Mountain and Hague's Peak, in company' with Messrs. 
Edmands and Fay. 

1 See page 239. * See page 176. 


8. Investigation of old beaver-work and discovery of one in- 
habited house and new dam, with Messrs. W. L. Hallett and 
B. I. Gilman. 

9. Ascent of Stone's Peak from Estes Park, with Mr. Hallett 
An expedition of rare interest,^ resulting in the discovery of a 
remarkable ice-field^ second only in size among those of this district 
to the Hallett Glacier. 

In the White Mountains, also, much valuable work has been 
done ; and the Councillor, as always, is grateful to Messrs. 
K B. Cook and W. H. Peek for their hearty co-operation and 

Mr. Cook has explored the mountains lying between the 
Twin and Willey Ranges, and has done much other thorough 

Mr. Peek has made further explorations of the northern end 
of the Pilot Range. 

Mr. W. H. Beaman has made a topographical exploration of 
the Benton Range, which the Councillor visited last year ; and 
has submitted his report, with measurements, etc. The differ- 
ence between some of his figures and those of the Councillor 
are due to the fact that the latter gave estimates for inex- 
perienced walkers, and Mr. Beaman gives his own times and 

Mr. George C. Mann and others visited Huntington's Ravine 
during the Club excursion to the Glen House in July, and a 
brief sketch of his observations will be found appended to this 

There have been other interesting walks and explorations 
which have not as yet been reported to the Councillor, and 
hence cannot be included in this report. The record of them 
will be laid before the Club at some future time. 

The Councillor regrets that he cannot report any explora- 
tion done by himself during the summer. It was not until in 
September that his health had so improved as to permit him to 
attempt mountain climbing, and he was then obliged to return 
to Boston. He spent his summer upon and near Lakes Huron, 

1 An interesting episode of this excursion will be found in "Scribner's 
Magazine " for February, 1889. 


Michigan, and Erie. There is nothing in his summer wander- 
ings to report to the Club, except that he desires to mention 
the extreme beauty and picturesqueness of Mackinac Island, 
with its curious rock formations and ancient colonial forts. 

An Ascent of Mt. Suavano. By Charles £. Fat. 

Mt. Suavano is a fine peak, 14,240 feet high, situated at the southerly 
end of the Saguache Range iu Central Colorado. Its nearest neighbor is 
Mt. Antero, a peak of the same general mass, a few miles north and of 
almost exactly the same altitude; and these two peaks are separated by 
the Alpine Pass from Mt. Princeton, the southernmost of that portion of the 
Saguache Mountains to which the name of Collegiate Range has been ap- 
plied. The mountains of this division are, named from south to north, 
Princeton (14,190 feet); Yale (14,187 feet); and Harvard (14.375 feet). 
Yale and Harvard are exactly upon the Continental Divide; Princeton, 
Antero, and Shavano a little east of it. Of this number Princeton would 
naturally be chosen if one could make only a single ascent in this region, 
owing to its easy accessibility from a trunk line of railroad, — that of the 
Denver and Rio Grande from Denver to Leadville; moreover, it is a very 
imposing and beautiful mountain. 

To Mr. J. R. Edmands and the writer, while makin.^ an excursion to 
Salt Lake City by the line of this same railroad which crosses the Mar- 
shall Pass, Shavano seemed more available, as being less remote from their 
line of travel. Maysville, the town from which the ascent is naturally 
made, lies only seven miles from Poncha, a station of this section of the 
Denver and Rio Grande Railroad. From Poncha, the Monarch Branch, on 
which Maysville is the leading station, diverges from the main line. Over 
this branch there is a single train daily each way, Sundays excepted. 
Finding ourselves at this junction on a Sunday morning (July 22), we 
were obliged to walk these seven miles, which we accomplished in the lat- 
ter part of the afternoon. On reaching Maysville, good lodging and 
excellent fare were found at the boarding-house of Mrs. Yenable. 

As a long day would evidently be required to ascend Shavano and 
return to Poncha that evening, we made a veiy early start, rising at 
2.30 A. M. Preparation of coffee and despatching breakfast delayed us 
until nearly 4 o'clock, when we quietly stole forth into the moonlight and 
took tho road which follows the north fork of the South Arkansas River, 
— a boisterous little stream coming down from the Continental Divide 
and skirting the southerly base of Mt. Shavano. It flows between two 
** mesas," which rise gradually higher on either side, after one leaves the 
junction of the fork with the main stream, at Maysville. 


After following the road (for the most part excellent) about fonr miles, 
joat before sunrise we struck directly up the slope of the ** mesa," rising 
at an angle of not far from 40^, and here perhaps between three and 
four hundred feet above the stream. The slppe was almost entirely de- 
void of trees. The top, however, proved to be well wooded, and upon it 
we crossed one or two wood-roads. We made as directly as we were able 
through the timber, which soon degenerated into a '* chapparal " of aspens, 
towards the end of a southeasterly ridge that comes down from the lower 
of the two peaks of Shavano that are visible from Maysville, — the ridge 
which has on the left the principal ravine of the mountain seen from that 
place. Reaching this ridge, we found that the aspen growth again gave 
way to larger timber, while the slope became quite steep. Traces of a 
path here appeared, though we were unable to learn by whom it was con- 
structed, or for what purpose, as climbing the mountain does not appear 
to be a favorite recreation of the inhabitants of Maysville or vicinity. 
Although we heard of a few persons who had made partial ascents, we 
had found it impossible to secure any definite information as to the best 
way of attacking the peak. 

It was not far from 7 o'clock when we struck the lower end of our 
ridge, at an approximate elevation of 9,000 feet. My companion not 
being in good condition for climbing, we made slow progress ; so that it 
was nearly two hours before we reached timber-line. Beyond this point 
we skirted a deep ravine between our ridge and the one next northerly. 
In the bottom lay the customary lakelet, and on its head-wall rested the 
only snow left on this southerly and easterly exposure of the mountain, — 
a narrow stripe which did not last through the season. 

We reached the lower peak, an elevation of nearly 13,500 feet, at about 
10 o'clock. The greater part of the way from timber-line had been rather 
arduous climbing over the huge fragments of rock with which the whole 
slope is strewn. Before us now lay a gentle down-grade of easy travel- 
Img nearly to the base of the main peak, which rises in a sharp cone, 
almost 1,000 feet above the depression between the two summits. The 
final spire is likewise strewn with great rocky fragments, which ren- 
dered climbing a slow process. The way was enlivened by meeting a 
covey of ptarmigans, or mountain grouse, so tame that one could almost 
knock them over with a stick ; also the little conies, protesting in squeaky 
voices against the invasion of their solitude. The principal summit was 
reached at 11 o'clock. Under more favorable circumstances the ascent 
could easily have been made in one or two hours' less time. 

The mountain, as we had inferred, proved to be well situated as a view- 
point for Central Colorado, though our own enjoyment of its prospect was 
much diminished by the clouds which had already settled down upon 
many of the peaks, especially those of the Sangre de Cristo Range in the 
southeast, and more or less over those of the Collegiate Range. While 
the former remained hidden, the parting of the cloudy veil occasionally 
gave us peeps of the latter, particularly of Princeton and Yale. In the 


west, upon and beyond the Continental Divide, lay a sea of mountains, 
more or less striped with snow. The deep red tint of certain of them, a 
tint heightened by the green of what vegetation grew upon them, lent a 
peculiar charm of color to that portion of the landscape. To the south- 
ward, across the fertile valley of the South Arkansas, lay Sabeta Peak; 
and behind it Mt. Ouray, over whose southerly ridges the Denver and 
Rio Grande crosses from the Atlantic to the Pacific slope. Pikers Peak, 
eighty miles away, was the principal landmark in the far east, while near 
at hand in that direction lay the broad valley of the main stream of the 
Arkansas. To the right of the veiled summits of the Sangre de Cristo 
Range the eye could range for scores of miles down the broad expanse of 
the g^at San Luis Park. 

Mr. Edmands devoted his time on the summit chiefly to securing com- 
pass-bearings of other peaks. Meantime the clouds had been gathering 
more densely, and showers were falling north and south of us. Shortly a 
portentous one was seen bearing down upon us from the west, and we 
hastened to leave the sharp summit of the mountain before it should 
reach us. We had descended only a few hundred feet, however, before 
we found ourselves enveloped in a driving storm of hail, while the thunder 
from unseen lightning crashed menacingly, though not in our immediate 
vicinity. We sought what shelter we could get in the lee of overhanging 
rocks, and waited some twenty minutes for the tempest to pass. By this 
time we were quite chilled through with our coating of hail, and decided 
that it would be preferable to keep moving. We therefore came out from 
the delusive shelter of the rocks, prepared to continue our descent. 

Here we encountered an experience with electricity which perhaps 
merits record among similar instances noted, especially in Colorado. We 
had scarcely left our retreat when I saw my companion suddenly snatch 
his hat from his head and gaze into it with the puzzled and indignant 
look of one who fancies that a hornet has taken up his quarters in his 
head-gear. At the same instant there proceeded from his hair a buzzing 
and hissing as if from a whole nest of hornets. In a moment we observed 
similar music proceeding from the minute points of the rocks on every 
hand. Mr. Edmands at once replaced his hat and returned to the too 
soon disdained shelter, in which he was imitated by his '* partner; " al- 
though, probably because insulated by tennis-shoes with rubber soles, he 
had not served as an avenue to the playful electrical currents. This sing- 
ing of the rocks continued at intervals for some time after the hail had 
ceased and we had renewed our descent. So far as we observed, though 
the electrical discharges were quite numerous, none seemed to take place 
directly upon Mt. Shavano. 

We descended by the ridge we had seen across the deep ravine on 
our way up. It proved to be somewhat easier than that by which we had 
ascended, save a very steep final slope, through better timber than any 
we had seen in Colorado. At its base we came upon a spring which, for 
volume of water discharged, equals if not surpasses the famous one in 


Smugglers' Notch, under Mt. Mansfield, Vermont. Near at hand we 
found a shelter, evidently constructed by fishermen; and from here out to 
the edge of the '* mesa " we followed, for a good part of the way, a path 
recently cut by lovers of the sport. 

We reached Mrs. Venable's at 5.45, having been gone nearly fourteen 
hours. After another bountiful meal at her pleasantly remembered board, 
we stai-ted for an evening walk down the railroad to Poncha, where we 
arrived at about o'clock. 

A Trip to Sierra Blanca. Bt F. H. Chapin. 

Having read Mr. S. H. Scudder's account of "A Partial Ascent of 
Sierra Blanca," ^ I was desirous of making the climb of the highest point, 
Blanca Peak. My expedition was not a success; but perhaps it is desir- 
able to put on record accounts of defeats as well as of victories. 

On Tuesday, July 19, I arrived from the East at Colorado Springs. It 
was my intention to go to Estes Park in a few days ; so I thought it best 
to travel immediately to Fort Garland and try for the summit of Blanca. 
I made some inquiries in Colorado Springs in regard to the Sierra and its 
accessibility, but could get no information. The first day after my arrival 
I telegraphed the station-master at Garland, ^*Can I obtain guide for 
Sierra Blanca for Saturday? " Answer came back in two hours from my 
unknown friend, ** Can furnish outfit and guides for Saturday. Shall I 
engage?" signed "Operator." The word ** outfit" startled me, as I 
thought two or three burros ought to be enough to transport my photo- 
graphic instruments, blankets, and provisions to timber-line ; but know- 
ing nothing of the country, except what I had read in the above-named 
article, I did not answer the telegram, but hurriedly got my *^ traps " to- 
gether, and left Colorado Springs at 11 o'clock p. m. Thuraday, July 21. 

The journey by rail is one hundred and fifty-one miles. The first omen 
was bad. I could not get a berth on the '* sleeper ; " so was obliged to 
take a seat in a day-coach, and catch short naps when I could. The 
night was remarkably clear ; and as the moon was nearly full, the moun- 
tains were seen very clearly, and the snows were visible on Pike*s Peak 
for an hour after leaving its base. At Pueblo I succeeded in getting a 
berth, which was mine till we reached Cuchara at five in the morning ; 
80 I obtained a little rest. 

From the train I was enabled to enjoy the scenery of Veta Pass, and 
had beautiful views of the Spanish Peaks. We reached Garland (7,936 
feet) on time at 8 o'clock a. m. The telegraph operator immediately 
handed me over to Mr. Whitescarver, the proprietor of the Fourth Avenue 
Hotel, which is a rough board house standing by itself on the plain, no 

1 Affalachia, vol. L p. 258. 


other buildings near ; it b quite a good hotel neyertheiess. Quite a large 
tract is laid out for building lots, which on account of the pleasing loca- 
tion will probably be taken up in a few years, and Garland become a 
town of considerable size. 

Mine host took me to breakfast, and then I was interviewed by '* Pro- 
fessor" Thompson, who had been selected as guide. He is a very inter- 
esting character, such a one as the traveller often finds in far Western 
towns. I was informed that he graduated from Yale back in the forties, 
but gave up his Connecticut home, and from some eccentricity buried 
himself in the mountains, living as trapper, hunter, or miner in the 
neighborhood of Garland for about sixteen years. 

We met in the hotel. He questioned me: ** You wish to go into the 
mountains? " ** I wish to go to the top of Sierra Blanca." ** You mean 
the top of the range?" *'I mean the top of Blanca Peak." He an- 
swered that he thought it would be impossible so early in the season 
on account of the great accumulation of snow, but invited me to come 
out of doors, look at the range, and tell him which peak I thought to 
climb. I pointed out to him what I supposed was Baldy Peak, then 
what I took to be •* Blanca 4," * and finally what I considered to be the 
highest point of the range. He was pleased to acknowledge that I was 
right, but claimed that the trip would take several days ; but I knew, on 
the authority of Mr. Scudder, that two days was a liberal allowance, so 
pleaded that I was obliged to be in Colorado Springs the next night, and 
he finally agreed to make the attempt. I said that we ought to get off as 
soon as posj^ible, at least by noon ; and this proposition was acceded to. 

Mr. Whitescarver got his business partner, William Carson, to go with 
me to drive a two-horse team as far as a route could be found for a wsgon. 
If longer notice had been given, we might have had a burro train instead; 
but these animals were out in distant pastures and could not be collected 
in time. I invited a gentleman named Wiley, staying at the hotel, to go 
with us ; later his friend Mr. Clark decided to join the expedition. The 
former managed to find one burro, which proved very serviceable the 
second day. Mr. Carson, a son of the renowned Kit Carson, I found very 
pleasing and entertaining. Following his father's vocation for some time, 
he was a scout in campaigns against the Utes; but now that such kind 
of warfare is about over in Colorado, he has settled down to commercial 
life in Garland. 

During the forenoon I rambled around the town, and photographed the 
abandoned adobe fort and barracks. The few hours passed in this way 
were enjoyable, and the Mexican men, women, and children interesting 
and picturesque, as seen around and in the doorways of the adobe huts. 

Bad omen number two, I could not eat any dinner; but we left Garland 
at 1.15 p. M., drove out of the town to the north, passing several adobe 
huts, and then through a flat sage-brush country by the banks of the 

1 So designated in Mr. Scudder's article, cited above. 


beautiful Ute Creek. We soon turned away from the creek, and to the 
left. At three o'clock we had lost all trail, and found ourselves in a gully 
up which we could not get the wagon. Thompson and Carson explored 
for half an hour, but on returning avowed that they could not find a 
salida ; ^ so we were obliged to retrace our path for a mile and force a way 
to the banks of Cottonwood Creek. Our route was then easy, ax^ the 
views picturesque. The sight of filanca Range was very grand. Baldy 
Peak was immense. For a few minutes I delayed the outfit and took 
some photographs. Splendid pasturage lies all along the creek ; we passed 
several dilapidated sheep-corraJs, and once two large dogs bounded out of 
a thicket in front of us, but we saw no shepherd or sheep during our trip 
among the mountains. 

At 6.05 p. H. we reached the highest possible point to which we could 
get our vehicle. The elevation by barometer was 9,400 feet, — 1,464 feet 
above Garland, and in an air line about six miles distant; how far by 
the road I do not know. Our camp was by Cottonwood Creek, in a very 
picturesque spot among cotton wood and spruce trees. While supper was 
being arranged, I climbed a hill pasture near by, and took a few pictures 
of **Blanca4." 

As the night was very cold, I got no sleep, and a night in the woods on 
blankets after a long railroad journey and loss of sleep two nights in suc- 
cession did not tend to put me in very good condition. When we started 
at 4.50 A. M. I felt very dubious of my success. 

The burro was loaded with the camera and plates, and proved a worthy 
animal. He is the best burro that I am acquainted with. We reached 
timber-line at 7.15 o'clock, and a very grand view opened up before us. 
Old Baldy, its sides streaked with snow, was on our right; a deep gorge 
lay below; immense bodies of snow surrounded several open lakes; and 
higher up was a frozen lake. I imagine, however, that very little snow 
would be seen here by September 1. Blauca Peak, as a great rock-tower 
with no debris on its precipitous slopes, was truly grand in appearance. 
An interesting arete connects it with Baldy. I took a number of photo- 
graphs at timber-line, and then, though much fatigued, started at 8 o'clock 
on the ledges of " Blanca 4." ** Professor " Thompson, who had hitherto 
claimed that we would not have time to reach the summit that day and 
get back to timber-line before dark, now brightened up and said that we 
could do it. Clark and WUey, who were good walkers, soon got far ahead 
and in an hour were on the top of *' Blanca 4 " ; but, as I feared, I was too 
tired to continue, and for the first time in my life was obliged to give up 
the ascent of a mountain. The altitude of the point where I stopped 
was 13,000 feet The trip was well worth taking, even as far as I went, 
though the distant view was only to south and southeast. The mountains 
of the Culebra Range rose up beautifully beyond the long rising sweep of 
the southern San Luis Valley. Of especial interest wei-e Cuchara Peak 

1 Spanish for "pass," here applied to an exit from upper end of cafion. 



(13,611 feet) and Culebra Peak (14,049 feet). The outlook was entirely 
new to me, my previous climbs having all been taken in the northern 
and middle portions of the Front Range. 

Thousands of toui-ists visit the Rockies every year, look into the caxions, 
and are carried by rail over the passes; but they do not see the grandest 
part of tlie mountains. This I realized when standing on the ledges of 
Blanca and looking at the stupendous peak above me and into the gorge 
below. I had just been over one of the famous passes with a mule-shoe 
curve; but the sights I now beheld were enough to obliterate from mind 
the fact that there was such a thing as Yeta Pass. 

Never before had I suffered from great thirst and parched throat. I 
could hardly swallow; so Thompson and Carson returned with me to tim- 
ber-line, and we soon started for camp. I left them, and going alone 
found my way to Cottonwood Creek, where I refreshed my thirst every 
few minutes by plunging my face down into the stream and drinking in 
that position. 

An hour after reaching camp, Wiley and Clark came in. They did 
not go beyond ** Blanca 4," as they did not like the appearance of the 
narrow ridge which connects that summit with the great peak. We 
packed up and reached Fort Garland at 4 p. m. 

The first thing that I did was to drink a bowl of milk, and was immedi- 
ately cured of all my weakness and parching thirst, and felt humiliated 
that a malady so easily remedied should have made me give up an expe- 
dition, especially before I had met with any difficulties whatever. I nat- 
urally lay the weak state of my system to the fact that I had just travelled 
such a long journey and had lost two nights' sleep; but I also think that 
the extreme dryness of the atmosphere had something to do with it, and 
that the great change from the moistnre of the seaboard to the dryness of 
the Rockies was too much for me. 

A great fire had been raging on the western slope of Sierra Blanca for 
several days, but had not interfered with our view while we were on the 
range ; but when I stepped into the train and was carried away from Gar- 
land the mountains were enveloped in smoke and were entirely invisible. 

My failure on Blanca, which cost me thiee hundred miles* journey, now 
necessitates another longer journey of four thousand miles, if for no other 
purpose than to stand on the top of Blanca Peak. 

Huntington's Ravinr. By George C. Mann. 

In connection with the Glen House field meeting in 1888, a trip into 
this ravine was made by a small party. Ascending the Crystal Cascade 
Path to the ** Junction " and turning back upon the Raymond Path, 
fifteen minutes brought us to the second brook which flows from Hun- 


tington's Ravine. The bed of this brook was followed — a delightful bit 
of brook climbing — for about an hour, until a point was reached where 
the course divides for a few rods, and then divides for a second time. 
Just at the second division is a large flat rock in the middle of the streaui, 
from which the first view into the ravine is to be had. Continuing {ot 
half or three-quarters of an hour longer the brook grows smaller, and tlie 
bushes hang over more closely until at last they hang so low that it seems 
advisable to leave the bed altogether at a point well marked by a bla^e. 
The growth is scrubby and thick, but ten or fifteen minutes' use of the 
axe, by a skilful hand, opens enough of a passage to lead one past a large 
bowlder, twenty feet high, with a sharp upper edge, to a second one 
equally large and upon higher ground. Upon this we climbed without 
serious difficulty, and found ourselves upon a flat top, having an area of 
perhaps fifty or seventy-five square feet. It affords a complete and unob- 
structed view of the whole ravine, which is shaped like an amphitheatre, 
its walls higher than those of Tuckerman's Ravine, and on the whole more 
precipitous. Directly in front is a V-shaped cleft similar to the gateway 
of King's Ravine, but larger and longer, and on the left of this a hu£;^e 
pyramid of rock that is sometimes visited from the Alpine Garden. The 
cascades were numerous, though small, but are said to be very beautiltil 
after heavy rains. 

The trip is a delightful one, and well worth the labor of the climb. It 
seems surprising that it should be spoken of in Osgood's Guidebook a» 
" nearly impracticable," and that Mr. W. H. Pickering in his ** Walking; 
Guide " should be so emphatic in his statement of the difficulties involved. 
Per controt Mr. Randall Spaulding (Appalachia, vol. iii. p. 189) con- 
siders the walk into the ravine ** not formidable," and the ascent of the 
wall *' not remarkably difficult if the right way be selected." I heartily 
concur in his suggestion of this as an interesting route from the Glen to 
the summit of Mt. Washington. 

Reports of the Councillors for the Autumn of 1888. 


Bt Frederic D. Allen. 

The construction of the Madison Spring Club Hut — the 
most considerable single undertaking on which the Club has 
yet ventured — has occupied the Councillor's attention durin^x 
most of the season. The plan of having a camping-place, av 
more exactly a living-place, in the upper mountain-region^ in 


the vicinity of the northern peaks, had long been cherished 
by many members of the Club. Last February the Council 
took up the matter in earnest, and voted an appropriation 
which should partly meet the expense. An appeal to the 
Club for subscriptions, made in April and May, met with a 
liberal response: $368.50 was subscribed by Club-members, 
and of this all but $10 has been paid in. Friends of the 
cause outside the Club contributed $38.50 more, and several 
hotel-keepers have given or promised aid ; considerable sums, 
in particular, being offered us by the proprietors of the Fabyan 
House and the Glen House. The sum total of these subscrip- 
tions, paid and unpaid, amounts to $487. 

The question of location did not occupy the Council long. 
Only three sites came at all into consideration, — Spaulding's 
Spring, Peabody Spring, and Madison Spring. The last- 
named had greatly the advantage in respect of fuel-supply 
(an important item), and also in respect of accessibility. 
To have built at either of the other places would have cost 
more; and after it was done, the portages of blankets and 
provisions for each camping-party w^ould be longer. The 
Madison Spring is extremely well situated for our purposes. 
The col between Mt. Adams and Mt. Madison is occupied by 
a small shallow pond. As one descends from this col to the 
north, water bursts from the spongy soil in many places, 
and quickly forms a little rill, the beginning of the so-called 
" Snyder Brook." A few rods farther down, is a level grass- 
plot in which the rill forms a little basin. This has long been 
a favorite camping-place. It is slightly sheltered from winds, 
and stands on the edge of a patch of scrub-spruce, covering 
several acres. The height above the sea must be about 4,900 
feet. It is reached by a side path which diverges from the 
main path from the Ravine House to the top of Adams. The 
distance to the Ravine House is about 3| miles by the path ; 
to the top of Madison, about ^ mile ; to the top of Adams, over 
I mile. 

About the middle of June the way seemed clear to pro- 
ceed with the work. The worst of weather was encountered 
throughout ; and it is owing to the extraordinary storminess 
of the season that your Councillor is unable to report the 


entire completion of the work. The bad weather has caused 
not only delay, but additional expense ; so that the cost of 
the hut will exceed somewhat, though only a little, the 
highest estimate made in advance. 

The difficulty of transportation was overcome by the use of 
pack-horses. It was necessary to improve the path from the 
Ravine House, so as to make it passable for horses. This was 
successfully done under Mr. Watson's direction, up to the 
tree-limit, about three miles. Horses were used to this point, 
though not without difficulty. Beyond the tree-line every- 
thing had to be carried by hand. Owing to the rains and the 
exigencies of the haying-season, it was past the middle of 
August before this road could be finished, and the actual 
work of building begun. 

The masons went into camp on the 21st of August, and 
finished the walls in about three weeks. Since then the 
weather has been so continually stormy that it is with the 
greatest difficulty that the roof has been got on, and the hut 
made tight for winter. Work was only possible at long in- 
tervals ; the last was done only a fortnight ago. At present 
the roof is done, door and windows are in place and pro- 
tected by outside shutters, the stove is set up and ready for 
use. It remains to provide the floor, the bunks, cupboard, and 
shelves, and the movable furniture. Two or three days' work 
at the beginning of next season will accomplish this; and there 
is no doubt that the hut will be ready for use as early next 
June as any one wishes to use it. 

The cabin is built from plans furnished by Mr. J. F. Eaton. 
Its inside dimensions are 16 J X l^ feet ; it is 7 feet high at 
the eaves, and 11 feet at the ridge of the root The walls 
are about two feet thick, built of flat stones carefully fitted, 
and pointed inside and outside with the best Portland cAiuutiit, 
eight casks of which were used in the work. Tlic drx>r and 
the two windows are all on the front side; the windown have 
each two small sashes of ordinary construction^ and are pr^> 
tected on the outside by movable shutt^rrs. On the Hide o\)\Hh 
site the door, a flue is' built in the wall, and continued in a 
chimney which rises above the level of the ridjre. Th'J r^^^f 
is supported by a stout ridge-^eam and thirty nirwit rafU^tn, 


secured by long bolts passing into the walls. The shingles 
are of the best quality, and are painted. The ends of the 
cabin will be occupied by bunks, four at either end. These 
will be built of matched boards, and a sheathing of boards 
will protect the occupants from contact with the stone walls. 
Fir boughs can be used in them as bedding. The side oppo- 
site the door will have shelves, cupboard, wood-box, and stove. 
A pavement of flat stones is thought of as flooring. One 
end of the hut can be curtained off, when desired, as a sepa- 
rate apartment. 

A table and some chairs or benches will constitute the 
furniture. Axe, cooking utensils, tin plates, candlesticks, and 
a few other conveniences will be kept there. It is of course 
a question how much movable property can be safely left in 
the cabin to take care of itself. Only experience can decide 
this. The experiment is worth making. With the great 
mass of mountain climbers the Club property will be assuredly 
safe. Like the other camping-places provided by the Club, 
the hut will be open to any one who wishes to use it. A 
statement of the objects of the structure, and directions 
for leaving the premises in proper order, will be posted up 

The cabin stands on the east, or Madison, side of the little 
stream, three or four rods up the slope from the basin already 
spoken of. It fronts the south, for the sake of the sun, and 
presents its windowless rear to the prevailing winds. The 
view from the door is not uninteresting, though somewhat 

The Councillor wishes to thank publicly those members of 
the Club who in various ways helped him in his oversight of 
the work. More especially he feels called on to mention the 
very efficient services rendered in this undertaking by Mr. 
Watson, of the Ravine House. Besides a considerable sub- 
scription, Mr. Watson superintended, without compensation, 
the whole of the road-making and carrying, giving a good 
many days of his time ; and his advice on many matters was 
very useful to us. 

Tlie mason work was done by Mr. Burbank, of Gorham, 
under contract ; the remaining work was paid for by the day. 


The total cost of the work done so far is about $786, and 
about $30 more will be necessary. 

Other work in the region of the White Mountains has been 
accomplished as follows : — 

The Twin Mountain Path, as far as the summit of the 
North Twin, has been thoroughly cleared out, and marked 
with eight sign-boards, at an outlay of $16. It had been 
much obstructed by logging operations. Messrs. E. B. Cook 
and W. H. Peek have traversed the new path, and report that 
it is in good order. From them I learn that the continuation 
of the path from the North to the South Twin and beyond is 
still easy to follow. 

The path to the North Peak of Moat Mountain, starting 
from " Diana's Bath," has also been cut out afresh, and fur- 
nished with the necessary guide-boards. Rev. John Worcester 
superintended the work ; and the Club paid the expense, $10. 

Work on the paths in the Mt. Adams vicinity was vigorously 
pushed by Mr. W. G. Nowell. An expenditure of some $30 
was made here, $15 of which was given by the Department, 
and the rest was contributed by several gentlemen and ladies. 
Much more labor was done, however, than is represented by 
this expenditure ; and Mr. Nowell himself worked many days 
with the axe. The paths on the Randolph slopes of the main 
range, the first of which (the old Lowe path to Mt. Adams) 
was cut twelve years ago, now form a pretty complicated sys- 
tem, — I might almost say network. Mr. Nowell sends me 
the following account of the work done this summer, with 
the annexed sketch-map: — 

During 1888 I have been able to secure the foUowing results 
for the Club in the Department of Improvements. The localities 
mentioned are arranged in topographical order from west to east ; 
and a sketch-map based mainly upon plane-table work accompanies 
this report. 

I. The path fix>m the Mt Adams House up Ball Mountain has 
been cleared: length, about 1,400" (5 mile). The view from the 
southern brow of the mountain has been extensively opened. 

II. The path from Hubbard Hunt's on the Randolph road to the 
Castles on Mt. Jefferson, about 6,000"* (8} miles), has been cleared ; 
and its crossings of the Cascades and Castles brooks near their 



junction to form Israel's river have been marked with five sign- 
boards, 15«" X 80«", bearing the word PATH. 

III. What is known as Hant*s Cut-off, extending from the 
Castles Path at 0'' 8 to Lowe's Path at 2^ 2, 1,800- (1 J miles), 
has been cleared with axe and scythe. 

IV. From Uie junction of the Castles and Cascades brooks a 
new path has been cut up the Ravine of the Cascades. It follows 


the northeast bank of the brook at a respectful distance from its 
bowlder-encumbered bed, until the Lower Cascades are reached at 
the end of the old Cascades Path from the old camp on Mt. Adams. 
Above the Lower Cascades the new path crosses the brook, and 
keeps in its bed (or not far above its southwest bank) b^' the long 
Lower Slip, b}' the leaping Middle Fall and the beautiful pool into 
which it plunges, by the Upper Slip and the Upper Cascades. The 
distances from the junction of the brooks are : To Hunt's, 8,400" 


(2 J miles) ; to Lower Cascades, 1,400" (| mile) ; to Upper Cas- 
cades, 2,800™ (1} miles) ; to junction with old path on Nowell's 
Ridge near 5* 1, 8,600" (2^ miles), — half the last kilometre through 

V. The path from the old Mt Adams Camp to the Lower 
Cascades, 2,800™ (1| miles), has been thoroughly cleared. For 
several years it has been seriously obstructed by fallen timber and 
all sorts of debris. 

VI. The spotted line from near 3^ 6 on the old Mt. Adams 
Path (350™ above the A. M. C. Camp) to the Upper Cascades, 
2,200™ (1} miles), has been more abundantly blazed and partially 

Paths IV., v., and VI. afford access to one of the finest and 
largest of the White Mountain brooks that have a steep descent 
for a long distance ; and they can be taken in various combina- 
tions for round trips. The waters on this brook visible from Jef- 
ferson Highlands are the Lower Slip, the Upper Slip, and at times 
a part of the Upper Cascades. 

VII. The original Mt. Adams Path, which I began in 1875, has 
been cleared to timber-line, 4*^ 3* (nearly 2 J miles). From O*' 2 to 
2^4 the work was nearly equivalent to the construction of a new 
path, owing to lumbering operations and several years' growth of 

Experience here and elsewhere has taught us that in nailing signs 
to trees growing on the lower slopes even in that latithde, the nail- 
heads should not be driven home, but left protruding two or three 
centimetres. The nails will soon '* sour to" the board sufficiently 
to hold it firmly, and the growth of the tree will not push the board 
over the heads. 

VIIL From 4*^ 3' the path over F 3. 4 to the summit of Mt. 
Adams has been remeasured, and twenty-three guide-boards set 
up, marking 50-metre distances from the twenty-four 100-metres 
boards erected in 1883. They read 4^ 3', etc. The entire dis- 
tance to the summit from C. £. Lowe's on the Randolph road 
is 6^5' (4^ miles). In descending by short cuts, one usually 
takes off the fraction in excess of four miles. 

We have found that these boards will remain in serviceable con- 
dition about eight year? in the most exposed situations, and an 
indefinitely longer period in positions more or less sheltered from 
the prevailing storm-winds above timber-line. Paint-marks on the 
rocks disappear utterl}' in five years, even when made in the best 


manner; but they can be renewed with less labor and can be 
placed comparatively near to one another. The boards, howeyer, 
are visible at considerable distances.^ 

IX. The short path, 800" (i mile), leaving the A. M. C. Mt. 
Adams Camp and meeting the old King's Ravine Path (of 1876) 
at the head of ** Chicago Avenue" has been cleared. 

X. The King's Ravine Path, from 2^4 on Mt Adams Path of 
1875 and 1876 to Moss Cascade at the lower edge of the Floor of 
Bowlders, 2,600" (1| miles), has been reopened. The first thousand 
metres had been much encumbered by lumbermen, and were grown 
up with young spruces. 

From the Cascade to the Upper Bowlders blazes have been made 
wherever the fire has left a trunk ; and the blazes have been sup- 
plemented by frequent paint-marks on the bowlders. Mr. £. B. 
Coo^ and Mr. Hunt cut open the way through the tough growth 
above the Upper Bowlders ; and the route above that growth has 
been marked with paint and cairns up to the Gateway, which is 
about 1,500" (I mile) from Moss Cascade. 

XI. The old central route to the ledges of Durand Ridge along 
Snyder Brook and the Scar has been cleared. A long stretch, 
mainly in the third kilometre, had become seriously clogged with 

XII. In addition to the twenty-eight boards mentioned above, my 
daughter and I have made, painted, and lettered a dozen more for use 
on these paths ; also a larger one, 0.5" X 1") for the path entrance at 
Hunt's, bearing indications to various places of interest ; and an- 
other, 0.4" X 1-6", with fewer but larger letters, indicating similar 

XIII. At right angles with the burned camp at 3^ 26, Mt. Adams 
Path, and facing southwest, a new camp has been framed, and all 
the material gathered for its completion. It will be flnished early 
next summer. Its outside dimensions are 4 X 6" on the gi*ound ; 
3" height at front and 1.2" at rear. It is to be a closed camp, with 
a door in the southern end near the front, and a row of lights in 
the middle of the front, under the top pole. It is logged up on all 
sides, and is to be roofed with cedar shingles painted red. 

We have been aided in this summer's work by contributions from 

^ Our best waj so far for preparing the guide-boards is to use well-sea- 
Boned pine, tongue and groove strips for the ends, paint with three thin coats 
of white lead ground in oil (no drying), and finish with one coat of artist's 
flake-white. The black lettering is best done with artist's ivory-black. 


the Messrs. Wright, and from guests and proprietors of hotels at 
Jefferson Highlands and Randolph, which are detailed in an accom- 
panying report to the Treasurer of the Ckib. The Department oi 
Improvements has also appropriated $15 for this work. 

Had not the season been exceptionally inclement, more could 
have been accomplished. What has thus far been done represents 
about sixty days' labor; twenty days more will finish the work 

In connection with the field 'meeting at the Glen House 
about July 1, several old paths were cleared out afresh, under 
the direction of the committee which had charge of the meeting. 
These were, (1) the path from the Pinkham Notch road to 
Tuckerman's Ravine, and the cut-off leading from the Mt. 
Washington carriage-road into this path ; (2) the route from 
the Glen House to Mt. Madison;^ (3) the path from the 
Carter Notch to the Dome, and farther over the Carter- 
Moriah Range. 

Some other improvements, due entirely to individual efforts, 
have been brought to the knowledge of the Councillor. 

The path from North Conway to Humphrey's Ledge was 
put in thorough repair and marked with guide-boards at the 
expense of Miss Baker. 

The Mt. Moriah Path from Gorham was obstructed by an 
extensive windfall ; this has been cut through at the expense 
of Mr. Edwin T. Home and Mr. Charles Philbrook. As this 
path forms a part of the new route over the Carter Range, it 
is doubly important to have it kept open. 

The guests of the Grove Cottage (Charles Philbrook's) in 
Shelbume have cut a good path from the high-road near that 
house past the '^ Shelburne Basins " to the knoll called Mt. 
Surprise, on the Gorham-Moriah Path. This makes a nearer 
route from Shelburne to Mt. Moriah. The entrance to this 
path is marked by a conspicuous sign-board. 

A new path to Mt. Hayes, from the Shelburne direction, 
has also been opened by the Grove Cottage guests. It begins 
at the so-called Stevens Farm, at the end of the road which 
runs westward from the Lead Mine Bridge on the north side 

1 Erroneously named " Watson Path " on the map in Appalachia, vol. t. 
Na 1. It is usually known as Osgood's Path. 


of the Androscoggin. It is a better-shaded and more pleasant 
route of ascent than the old path from Gorham. 

The route from Shelburne village to Bald Mountain (" Shel- 
burne Moriah ") described in Appalachia, vol. v. p. 79, has 
been improved, and a passage cut through the scrub on the 

Mr. John Ritchie, Jr., sends the following communica- 
tion : — 

The Clnb excursion to Mt. Washington, Mass., led to the re- 
opening of an old path and the establishment of several new ones, 
some particulars of wliich are here given as a matter of record : — 

1. The path used by the Coast Survey parties along the crest 
of Alander, cut four 3*ears ago, was so overgrown as to be in- 
distinguishable. A new path was opened in September by the 
Club, following closel}^ the traces of the old one. It begins in the 
" Notch " between Alander proper and Pine, and runs northerly 
for a distance of about three miles over the summits of the range 
to Look-off, above Bash-Bish Falls. Outlooks are afforded almost 
everj^where on both sides. The path is very easy and clear. The 
time necessary to go from the ^^ Notch " to Bash-Bish is about two 
and one half hours. 

2. The path down Taconic Falls has been somewhat improved, 
and continued to a wood-road running south into the town-road 
above the log-cabin. It is now practicable to go down the Falls 
across the countr}% southerly, to Sage's Ravine, ascend the Ravine, 
and pass by roads to the head of the Falls again. The time neces- 
sary for this, for good walkers, is two to three hours. 

3. A road practicable for buckboards has been cut by Mr. O. C. 
Whitbeck from the " Back Road " to within two or three hundred 
feet of the summit of Prospect Hill. 

4. A path has been cut for the Club, also by Mr. Whitbeck, 
from Prospect Hill to Mt Fray, — a distance of two and a half to 
three miles. 

It will be seen that although a good deal of work in path- 
making has been done this year, nearly all of it has been in 
the clearing of old paths. This raises a question of policy. 
The number of mountain-paths made, in whole or in part, by 
the Club is now considerable. If all these are to be kept con- 
stantly in order, a considerable yearly outlay is necessary. 


Now, it is a conceivable policy not to keep open all the paths 
we open, but to abandon some of them when they have been 
used for a year or two, and spend our money in making new 
routes to new summits and over new passes. This policy 
would be to make a large number of places accessible for a 
short time each. I do not myself advocate this plan, except 
in cases where experience has shown that a particular path is 
of little use. But if our paths are in general to be kept up, 
there is need of a little more system than we have had hith- 
erto. Two methods are possible : the paths to be kept up may 
be let out for a fixed sum to woodmen, who will agree to keep 
them in order for so much a year. This plan is strongly 
urged by Mr. Nowell with respect to the Mt. Adams system of 
paths, and he informs me that responsible persons are ready 
to undertake the work for a moderate compensation. Or, — 
the second plan, — a system of regular inspection at intervals 
could be undertaken. The Councillor cannot himself do all 
this ; but it would, I think, be easy to secure the co-operation 
of members sojourning in different parts of the White Moun- 
tains, who would agree to go over certain paths, and report 
to the Councillor on their condition. Such work could then 
be ordered each year as seemed to be most needed. 

These plans might leave only a small sum each year for 
new paths ; but the policy is, in my view, the more useful 

Excursions for the Season of 1887 and 1888. 

Compiled bt George C Makn. 

The first excursion for 1887 took place on Saturday. April 30. A party 
of fifty-five persons (increased by thirteen more from Duxbury) left Bos- 
ton by the Old Colony Railroad at 8.15 a. m., and reached Kingston at 
about 10. Monk's Hill was reached, after a walk of four miles, at noon. 
Some members took lunch on the hill; others on the edge of Smelt Pond. 
The day was cloudy, but the air was clear; and good views of Plymouth, 
Duxbury, and the South Shore were obtained. Mayflowers were abun- 
dant. Returning, the party reached Boston, some at 5.20, the others at 
6.50 p. M. 


The May Walk took place on Saturday, May 14. About sixty mem- 
bers and friends left the cars of the Boston and Providence Railroad at 
Readville, and walked through the woods and over Mt. Hancock to Wis- 
SAHI88ICK Fond. The day was perfect, and was thoroughly enjoyed by 
all. About two hours were spent in the grove near the pond, and the re- 
turn walk was over Great Blue to Readville Station, reaching Boston at 
6 p. M. 

Notwithstanding the heavy rain, a party of forty (increased to fifty by 
a later train) took the 8.30 a. m. train on the Fitchburg Railroad on Sat- 
urday, May 28, for an excursion to Mr. Grace and Greenfield, Mass. 
At Wendell twenty took wagons for Warwick. The rain prevented the 
ascent of Mt Grace; but all enjoyed the drive through the gap in North- 
field Mountain, across the Connecticut Valley, and through Bemardston, 
reaching Greenfield in time for supper, and rejoining the rest of the party. 
Sunday and Monday wera spent in visits to the Museum at Deerfield, 
drives to South Deerfield (including an ascent of Sugar Loaf Mountain), 
and through the *' gorges,*^ and walks about the village. A small party 
went tlirough the Uoosac Tunnel to North Adams. Most of the party 
returned to Boston on the afternoon or evening of Monday. 

A party of seventy left Boston by the Fitchburg Railroad at 8 o'clock 
on the morning of June 17, for a two days' trip to Monadnock and Dub- 
lin. At Troy barges were taken for the Mountain House, which was 
reached about 1 p. m. The day was unusually clear, and a fine view was 
had. Owing to the unexpected size of the party, it was found necessary 
to divide the company, about one half remaining over night at the Moun- 
tain House, the majority going to the summit during the afternoon, and 
half riding around to Dublin. The whole party reassembled at Dublin 
on Saturday morning, and drove to Jaffrey, taking up on the way three 
who had walked over the mountain. After dinner at Jaffrey, the cars 
were taken at East Jaffrey, and Boston was reached about 7 p. m. 

On Friday. July 1, about eighty persons left Boston in special cars on 
the Boston and Maine Railroad, for the twenty-second field meeting at 
the Crawford House. Others came later, and the whole number pres- 
ent during the week aggregated one hundred and nine. A meeting was 
held in the evening, at which interesting papers were presented by Pro- 
fessor J. W. Chickering, of Washington, D. C , on ** Mountains and Gla- 
ciers of Alaska," and by J. Rayner Edmands, of Cambridge, Mass., on 
•* The Club Work in the Mountains," giving an account of the work done 
on the new White Mountain map, etc. On Saturday, thirty persons left 
the Crawford House at 8.30 a. m., and climbed Mt. Avalon. After rest- 
ing on the top, fifteen of the party returned to the hotel, while the rest 
climbed to the summit of Mt. Field, where they lunched. Thence they 
walked through the woods to Mt. Willey, and descended by the A. M C. 


path to the railroad near the Willey House. Some of the party then re- 
turned to the hotel by rail or on foot. Sunday was spent quietly at the 
hotel, or in short walks about it. A small party climbed Mt. Willard in 
the afternoon, to see the sunset, and were caught in a thunder-shower, 
but bravely kept on, and were rewarded by a beautiful view. A few 
stayed into the evening and had a wonderful moonlight view. On Mon- 
day, thirty-four persons started for Mt. Webster at 8 A. M., stopping at 
Bugle Cliff, Elephant's Head, and Flume Cascade on the way. Eighteen 
of the stronger climbers continued to the summit, and walked along the en- 
tire ridge, the view from which is one of the grandest to be found in the 
White Mountains, and deserves to be often visited. The party descended 
the southeastern end of the ridge, a very steep one, crossed the Saco by 
fording, and reached the Crawford House at 9 p. m. On Tuesday, fifty- 
five persons took the 9.12 train for Livermore, then a special train to 
Saunders' Mills, on Sawyer's River. Thirty-two climbed to the summit 
of Mt. Carrigain, while the rest took a walk into the Carrigain Notch. 
The Crawford House was reached at 10.80 p. m. Wednesday was rainy, 
and no excursion was made. In the evening Professor C. £. Fay gave an 
interesting account of the rise and growth of the Club. Several, also, of 
the party kindly aided in an entertainment of songs and instrumental 
music. On Thursday fifty-seven persons started at 7.20 a. m. for Mt. 
Washington. Fifteen climbed Mt. Pleasant by the A. M. C. path, and 
lunched on the top. Five of the walking party climbed to the Summit 
House, and the rest returned to Crawford's down the bridle-path. Over 
forty members of the party spent the night at the Summit House. On 
Friday the party at the Summit departed in various directions, some to 
Randolph, via Mts. Clay, Jefferson, and Adams; others to Tuckerman's 
Ravine, and then down the Crawford bridle-path. The rest returned 
by rail to the Crawford House, and took the afternoon train for their 

AsNYBUMSKiT HiLL, In Paxtou, was the objective point of an excursion, 
in which twenty members and friends participated, on July 80. The 
party left Boston via the Central Massachusetts Railroad at 7.15 a. m., 
for Jefferson's, reaching the hill, after a carriage-ride of about six miles, 
at 12 o'clock. This hill, but little known, commands a very beautiful view 
of the Massachusetts and Southern New Hampshire hills, and deserves 
much more attention than it receives. Althpugh the day was cloudy and 
hazy, a very enjoyable hour was spent on the summit. The carriages 
were taken at 2.30 for the station, and Boston was reached about 7 p. m. 

Nineteen persons — all Club-members, and ten of them ladies — partici- 
pated in the Club's first excursion to Ktaadn, under the leadership of 
Mr. R. B. Lawrence. The party went in three sections. Section A, starting 
August 15, consisted of three gentlemen; Section B, starting August 22, 
of two gentlemen and seven ladies ; Section C, starting August 81, of four 
gentlemen and three ladies. The length of the excursion varied from ten 


to fifteen days, nearly all the nights being spent in camp.^ Every mem- 
ber of the party climbed to the summit of the mountain, and all but one 
passed over the Narrows, the Chimney, and Pamola. Thirteen ascended 
the North Peak by the ridge which divides the Great Basin from the North 
Basin. The largest number of ascents by any one member was four of 
the West (highest) Peak, and three of the North Peak. Excursions were 
also made up the slide in the Great Basin to the North Basin and the 
ridge north of it, and to the head of the Southwest slide. One member 
climbed Turner Mountain from Ktaadn Lake. There was very little bad 
weather during the whole camping-trip, August 15 to September 14, and 
very clear views were enjoyed every time an ascent was made. A canoe 
on Ktaadn Lake added much to the enjoyment of the excursion. 

Thirty-four members and friends left the Boston and Maine Railroad 
Station at 11.30 A. m., on Saturday, September 17, for Newell's Station in 
Peabody. After visiting Ship Rock, the party walked to Bartholomew's 
Pond and to the top of the clifEs. After lunch, the walk was continued, 
by Brown's Pond, the Fay estate, and Spring Pond, through '* Seldom 
Good Pasture," to Flax Pond, and to High Rock in Lynn. 

On Saturday, October 8, sixty-seven members and friends took the 
10.45 train on the Eastern Rsdlroad for Pride's Crossing (Beverly 
Farms). Roads through the woods were followed to Pride's Hill, where 
lunch was taken. Afterwards, the Gumey Place, Beverly Rock, the 
Kidder Place, and the shore were visited, and Boston was reached on the 
return at 6.30 p. u. 

On Saturday, October 15, a party of twenty-one Appalachians took the 
8.30 morning train for Fitch burg, and proceeded thence by barges to the 
foot of Watatic. After a lunch in the pasture, they ascended to the sum- 
mit, where they remained about one hour and a half. The day was clear 
and cool, and the view remarkably fine, embracing not less than one hun- 
dred miles to the north and west, and including Greylock and Blue Hill. 
The summit is owned by a person who objects to visitors, and proposes to 
enforce the embargo. 

There were also thirty-one Outings, as follows: High Rock (Maiden); 
Prospect Hill (Maiden); Mt. Hood; Bellevue Hill; Nonantum Hill; Wa- 
verley; Blue Hill (2); Prospect Rock (Wakefield), 2; Prospect Hill (Wal- 
tham); Waban Hill; Mt. Wellington (2); Folly Hill (Beverly); Echo 
Bridge; Breed's Island; Turkey Hill; Arnold Arboretum (2); Doublet 
Hill; Hingham; Middlesex Fells (4); Fuller's Ledge; Walnut Hill 
(Newton); Oak Hill (Newton); Aspinwall and Corey Hills; and Pran- 
ker's Pond. 

1 For a description of the route, camps, and paths, see the report of the 
Councillor of Improvements for 1887. 


The excursions for 1888 were iDitiated by a trip to Jackson, N. IT., 
by a party of eight, leaving Boston on Thursday, February 23. On 
Friday six went by rail to Crawford's, and climbed Mt. Willard on 
snow-shoes. On Saturday five ascended Tin and Middle Mountains, 
On the next day the party visited Prospect Farm and Hall's Ledge. On 
Monday seven went into Carter Notch, and a partial ascent of the Dome 
was accomplished. Doublehead was climbed on Tuesday by six, and the 
week's expeditions closed on Wednesday with an ascent of Iron Mountain 
by five. 

On Saturday, June 2, a party of fifty-eight left Boston, at 11.30 a.m. 
for Indiak Rock, via Montrose Station. After luncheon the walk was 
continued, a portion of the party going to Saugus, by Pranker's Pond, 
and the remainder branching off near Breakheart Hill, to Mt. Nebo. 
The walk was largely on wood roads and paths, and was about eight 
miles in length. 

An excursion party to Camden, Me., numbering fifty-three, left Boston 
by the steamer ** Penobscot," on Friday afternoon, June 15. Reaching 
Camden the next morning, Mt. Megunticook was ascended. A party 
of forty-eight drove to the Wadsworth farm, from which thirty-one 
climbed to the summit. The return ride was by French's Beach. On 
Monday, the ascent of Bald Mountain was made by twenty-nine. 
In the afternoon the party took the steamer for Boston, arriving early 
Tuesday morning. 

The twenty- third field-meeting of the Club was held at the Gmn 
House, from June 30 to July 7. The party, which numbered in all 
one hundred and eleven, left Boston on Saturday, June 30, at 9.30 a.m., 
by the Eastern Division of the Boston and Maine Railroad, and reached 
the Glen House, by stage from Glen Station, in a smart rain, at sunset 

No excursion was planned for Sunday, but a half-dozen impatient souls 
started to explore Hnntiugton's Ravine, amid frequent showers. Miss- 
ing the stream, thoy climbed by mistake up Nelson's Crag, and returned 
by the carriage- road. 

On the following days of the week the weather was unusually clear and 
delightful. On Monday a party of fifty-two went into Tuckerman's 
Ravine via the Crystal Cascade, nearly all going as far as the snow, which 
was more abundant than usual. A few only resisted the temptation to 
climb the head-wall, and twenty-six continued their walk to the Summit 
House, and descended by the carriage-road. The rest returned to the 
Glen House by the Raymond path. 

On Tuesday fifty-three persons went up into Carter Notch, where 
the grand rock scenery and the view of the Dome and the Jackson and 
Conway valleys were as interesting as ever, though the unusual abun^ 
dance of black files made a long stay intolerable. Twenty-five of Itm 
party ascended nearly or quite to the summit of the Dome, fourteen oF 
appalachia v. 17 


whom retarned to the Glen Houae. Eleven, however, with three pack- 
men, kept on over the rarioas ridges of the Carter Range, and spent the 
night in camp on Imp Mountain. These on Wednesday crossed Mr. 
MoRiAH, and returned to the Glen by way of Gorham. 

On Thursday a party of fifteen went up Mt. Madison by the Osgood 
path, which had been freshly cleared and marked for the occasion. Be- 
fore reaching the summit, three of the party turned back. The rest 
crossed the summit and lunched at the spring near the site of the pro- 
posed Club-hut. From this point the party divided, four skirting Adams 
and going over Jefferson and Clay to Washington, two returning to the 
Glen House the same evening. Of the other eight, six climbed Adams, 
and all descended to the Ravine House by way of Durand Ridge, and 
returned to the Glen by wagon. 

On Friday small parties visited the clearing on Wildcat, the bridge on 
the West Branch, Huntington*8 Ravine, Glen Ellis Falls, and various 
points of interest in the neighborhood. 

On Saturday the company dispersed, the majority returning to 

The party which left Boston on Monday, August 27, to spend a week 
on Mt. Moosilauke, was necessarily limited to thirty-five, and was ac- 
commodated in about equal proportions at the Moosilauke (Breezy Point) 
and at the Tip Top House, although by exchanges nearly all spent a por- 
tion of the time at the Summit. The principal expeditions made were 
to the Nine Cascades (eight making the trip on Wednesday, and eleven 
on Saturday), to Jobildunk Ravine (eight on Wednesday, and six on 
Saturday), to the South Peak (twelve) on Thursday, and down the 
Warren Summit path (six) on Friday. The members at Breezy Point 
drove to Water nomee Falls (sixteen) on Thursday, to the Warren Sum- 
mit path (twenty) on Friday to meet the party from the Tip Top House, 
and walked to the Head Farm (seven), and Echo Lookout (fifteen) on 
Tuesday morning. Foggy weather interfered with the projected explora- 
tions into the Baker River valley. 

On Friday, September 28, a party of about fifty left Boston by the 
New York and New England Railroad for a week's trip to Mr. Wash- 
ington, Mass. The route was via Hartford and Lakeville. The first 
night was spent at the latter place, and on Saturday the journey was 
continued by carriage. Bald Peak and Bear Mountain were visited and 
ascended on the way, and Mt. Washington was reached in the afternoon, 
after a ride of sixteen miles. The day was cold, with excellent views. 

Sunday being exceedingly clear, a party of thirty climbed to the sum- 
mit of Mt. Everett, while seven or eight walked to Sky Farm. In the 
afternoon there was a wet snow-storm. 

Monday was very rainy, and no excursion was attempted. A small 
party walked to Bash-Bish Falls. 


On Taesday forty-seven of the party rode to Bear Bock, and yiewed 
Taoonic Falls. Twenty-seven walked down the falls, and climbed 
through Sage's Bavine, in spite of a rain-storm that had set in. 

Wednesday morning a party of nine walked to the base of Alander, 
and twenty-nine rode to Bash-Bish Falls; thirteen of these rode on to 
Europe, making the ascent of Alander from that point, meeting the 
walking party, and descending along the ridge to Bash-Bish Falls. After 
lunching, the entire party rode to Sunset Bock, and thence twenty-two 
walked and six rode across fields to Prospect Hill, from which thirteen 
walked to the summit of Mt. Fray. 

On Thursday the entire party drove to Lakeville, by way of Sheffield, 
and returned to Boston by various trains. 

The season's excursions ended, as they were to have begun, by the visit, 
on October 20, to Beeves Hiu^ in Wayland, that had been planned for 
the May Walk, but abandoned on account of continuing bad weather. 
Even now, a doubtful day prevented more than thirty-one from joining 
the party. But the afternoon was clear, and a fine view of the surround- 
ing country, with its dress of autumn foliage, was enjoyed from the tower 
upon the summit of the hill. 

There have also been, up to December 1, eighteen Saturday afternoon 
outings, as follows : Pasture Hill, Medford ; Mt. Benedict, West Box- 
bury; Castle Bock, Stoneham; Arlington Heights (twice); Winchester 
Beservoir; Zion's Hill; Maplewood Highlands; Mead's Hill, Waltham ; 
Mt. Hood; Lyman's Hill; Fairmonnt; Osgood Heights; Phaeton and 
Cleft Bocks ; Prospect Hill, Waltham ; Arnold Arboretum ; Middlesex 
Fells ; Horn Pond Mountain. 



Plate XIII. 


Photographed by F. H. Chapin, 1888. 


Vol. V. BOSTON, MAY, 1889. No. 4. 

' Through San Luis Park to Sierra Blanoa. 

Bt Charles E. Fat. 

BMd Ifay ^ 1889. 

It ia obbj to understand why any lover of the mountains 
finding himself in Colorado should be filled with a longing to 
ascend Sierra Blanca. The fact th^t it is the loftiest of the 
Rocky Mountains within the limits of the United States, that 
it has been so seldom ascended as to have the local reputa- 
tion of inaccessibility, to say nothing of the charm of its 
sonorous name suggestive of the strangeness of a foreign 
civilization that still faintly ripples at its feet, all unite to 
render it a goal of eager aspiration ; and when, say from 
the summit of Pike's Peak, one catches sight of its serrated 
crest glistening under its snows far in the south, one must be 
cold indeed if the passion to explore that intricate massif and 
press its summit does not become well-nigh irresistible. So 
it was with us ; and it was doing violence to every instinct of 
our nature when, a few days later, the demands of our itine- 
rary compelled us to turn westward at Pueblo, losing from 
sight the beautiful Spanish Peaks, that are perhaps the fairer 
because they stand forever in the noble presence of Sierra 
Blanca. - 

Happily it proved that our visit was only postponed. Two 
months later it was accomplished, and with a prelude that 
would have been wanting if we had made it at the earlier 


date. Then we should have made the trip by the simplest 
and most natural way : we should have gone by rail over the 
Yeta Pass to Fort Garland, ascended our mountain, and re- 
turned by the same route. Meantime we had heard that the 
best ascent of the peak is over a western spur that descends 
into the San Luis Park. Vague reports of this region had 
also exerted a sort of fascination, and we decided to enter 
this fancied Paradise at its northern extremity, over Poncha 
Pass, traverse it on foot some sixty miles to the base of the 
spur in question, and, climbing the peak from this side, de- 
scend to railroad communication at Fort (Garland. And this 
we did ; but not in all respects did plan and execution tally. 

It was about eleven o'clock in the forenoon of August 31 
that we alighted from the train at Villa Grove, the most impor- 
tant station of a branch of the Denver and Bio Grande Railr 
road that enters the northern end of the San Luis valley, and 
let our eyes wander over the wide expanse of the great park 
broadening into inmiensity southward ; for the highlands on 
the west diverge rapidly from the lofty rampart on the east, 
— the noble Sangre de Cristo range, which we were to follow 
throughout its entire length. How beautiful it was! how 
feminine in its grace, with its regular pyramidal peaks soar- 
ing into the intense blue of that southern sky ! How differ- 
ent here from the defiant southerly peaks of the same range, 
most of which were still hidden by nearer portions of the 
ridge! Far away, where the lower extremity of the range 
swung a little westerly, rose Blanca itself^ robbed of its base 
by the sensible curvature of the earth, and clothed with a 
fictitious gentleness, the effect of distance and summer haze. 
Towards the west it flung out a long tapering ridge, a pen- 
nant of pale blue on the horizon, — doubtless the very spur 
we were to climb. 

Our knowledge of the region through which we were to pass 
in order to reach it was limited to what we had been able to 
gather from Nell's Topographical Map of Colorado, — a work 
worthy of much praise, and on which we had safely relied 
on all previous trips. About all that it claims to show for 
this region are a few names of places, some small creeks and 
lakelets, and certain roads. The user has perhaps only him- 


self to blame if he fancies a village, perhaps a town, or 
possibly a watering-place where he reads such names as ^^ Bis- 
marck," " San Isabel," and " Medano Springs," or sees in his 
mind's eye a good comitry turnpike where the map indicates a 
highway. San Isabel, some twenty-five miles to the southward, 
had been chosen from a limited assortment of names as the 
place for our first night's rest, partly because it seemed at 
about the proper distance, and partly because here we expected 
to gratify our curiosity with the sight of a Mexican town. 
The name was suggestive ; but no one at the Villa Orove 
station could give us any information as to the place itself, or 
the road leading to it. Indeed, we wasted some little time and 
energy in finding this highway, so plainly indicated on our 
map ; and not until after one or two false starts did we finally 
stumble into it, unobtrusively creeping across the brown 

We were now fairly under way, and had ample time to 
compare the real San Luis Park with the one which our 
fancy had painted. We were not surprised at its vast extent, 
for we had heard that its area was equal to that of all Swit- 
zerland. This is a wild exaggeration ; its actual extent is 
about equal to that of the State of Connecticut. We had 
heard it spoken of as the most fertile of the parks of Colorado, 
— and it really has the largest acreage of arable land, some five 
hundred square miles. We had not formulated the ratio of 
500 to 5,000, nor bethought ourselves how little a farm with ten 
acres of waste land to one of tilth would be likely to arouse 
our admiration. We had just come from Estes Park. This 
charming nook of Northern Colorado, while not beautiful for 
verdancy, is nevertheless plentifully sprinkled with trees, 
goodly specimens of the Pitms panderosa. But here, far as 
the eye might wander over the sea-like expanse of the vast 
plain, hardly a tree was visible. It was pleasant to lift the 
eyes to the hill-slopes at either bound, for they were darkened 
with their scattered growth of piiions. Perhaps better trained 
eyes might have made out more readily the lines of cotton- 
woods fringing some distant watercourse, and have noticed 
more striking evidences of the great fertility which charac- 
terizes the arable portions of the lofty plateau. 


The rainy season was not yet over, and thonder-showera 
were gathering and falling in the mountains, but we were in 
the full blaze of a noonday sun which beat mercilessly upon 
the parched land. Constant mirages entertained us witii their 
curious effects, increasing the customary illusion of distance 
on the plains and playing havoc with our estimates of time, — 
when we should come up with some herd of grazing cattle, or 
reach some distant ranch. The road was admirable, and yet 
it had required no labor to build it The soil in this section 
is a compacted drift, and it only needs an agreement on the 
part of drivers to keep the same track and a perfect road is 
made. When finished, there is no danger that it will be gullied 
or washed. The grade is too near a dead level and the rain- 
fall too slight 

As regards its hydrography we were traversing a very in- 
teresting region. It naturally forms a part of the watershed 
of the Rio Orande del Norte, which rises in the mountains west 
of the Park and flows through its southern section. But not 
a drop of the water that falls on the western slopes of the 
Sangre de Cristo range or hereabout ever reaches that river. 
The little streams that flow out of these mountains are sup- 
posed to bear their tribute to the San Luis Creek, the princi- 
pal watercourse of this section ; but several of these we found 
absolutely dry, although it was now the close of the so-called 
rainy season, during which showers fall almost daily, at least 
in the mountains. They had either lost their water in the 
sand, or possibly yielded their whole supply for purposes of 
irrigation. San Luis Creek itself was only an insignificant 
stream. In the distance of forty miles, from Villa Grove to 
where it yields its meagre tribute to the alkaline lakes nearly 
opposite Sierra Blanca, it has a fall of about three hundred 

Apart from the ever-changing and more inspiring views of 
the great mountains towering on our left, — Bito Alto, Electric, 
and Silesia Peaks, — our way offered little variety. Now and 
then we passed a ranch, with its one-story house, — its flat roof 
covered with earth, — unshaded, and baking in the sun. Few 
signs of life were visible about them. Before coming to Cotton 
Creek, a settlement almost large enough to call a village, we 


passed two or three very pretty frame hoases and a tidj 
school-house. As we had stopped once to lunch, and again 
to seek shelter from what proved to be a mere empty threat 
of a tempest, it was past mid-afternoon when we reached this 

Beyond it the country through which we passed changed 
decidedly for the worse. Our excellent road, which thus far 
had kept well out in the plain, had swung over towards the base 
of the mountains. Soon it degenerated into a many-stranded 
track through brown sand ankle-deep. Toiling on, we looked 
at each other pensively, wondering if the rest of our way to the 
Sierra lay through this Sahara, and making hopeless estimates 
of the time it would require to accomplish the trip, if such 
were the case. For a brief moment we were encouraged as 
we reached Bito Alto, the last place indicated on our map 
before San Isabel. We found here amid the cottonwoods no 
town nor even settlement, but merely the ranch house of a 
single large estate whose fertile lands border the little stream 
to which the Mexicans first gave the musical name. Our re- 
lief was only momentary. Grossing the narrow belt of this pro- 
longed oasis, we again plunged into sand worse than before. 
Matters soon began to look serious, for the strain was telling 
on legs and back, and on these we depended for our success 
in climbing the longed-for summit. At last, however, just as 
dusk was deepening into darkness, the sand again gave place 
to hard bottom, lofty cottonwoods added their obscurity to the 
gloom, that soon was broken by a beam of light from the win- 
dows of the San Isabel ranch. Here, as at Bito Alto, the 
name upon the map applied to a single estate. We had 
begun to suspect as much. Its lands extend in irregularly 
disposed sections twelve miles out into the Park, pasturing a 
large herd of cattle ; while the heavy natural grass in the 
watered land yields hundreds of tons of hay. 

If we had the slightest regret over the postponement of 
our first glimpse of Mexican life, it was quickly banished by 
the cordiality of our welcome. The superintendent of the 
ranch and his accomplished wife, surrounded by the luxu- 
ries of their pleasant home, quickly made us forget that we 
were on the outer verge of civilization. We were now able 


to secure accarate information regarding the coontry still to 
be traversed. Our first question was : " How far is it from 
here to Medano Springs?" "About twenty-six miles." 
" Must we plough through this dreadful sand all the way ?" 
" For the greater part, if you keep the upper road." This 
was the one we had chosen as being the most direct ; another 
that had parted from it seven miles back, now lay a long dis- 
tance to the west of us. We then learned from our host that 
along this western hem of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains 
there lie these great sandy tracts that reach out in tongues 
into the Park. Between them and along the streams lie 
meadow-lands, called by their Spanish name vegM. Some 
miles beyond San Isabel lie great dunes, of which we had had 
a view just before sunset, — a dazzling sea of sand tossed in 
a chaos of great yellow waves. They cover an area of per- 
haps forty square miles. The upper road would take us over 
a portion of this tract, and we were recommended not to fail 
to see so interesting a region ; but the memory of recent 
toils was still too fresh in mind, and it was decided that our 
first business on the morrow would be to make for the other 
road, which, following the general course of San Luis Creek, 
would at least afford us solid foothold. 

We had expected to reach the base of Sierra Blanca by 
the evening of the second day. We had heard of a saw-mill 
well up on one of the creeks flowing from the mountain, 
where we could pass the night, and from here getting an 
early morning start we counted on reaching Fort Oarland via 
Blanca Peak in time for the night train to Colorado Springs. 
As we pushed aside our drapery curtains at San Isabel in the 
early morning, we saw the grand outline of Blanca, clear, 
alluring, but ominously far away. If we were to reach its 
base by nightfall, it would only be by securing a conveyance 
from Medano Springs to Zapato, or the nearest point to the 
mill. Our detour to reach the other road was to take us 
some miles out of our way at the start. We were therefore 
very glad to accept an invitation from our host, who was 
going to visit one of their " hay-camps " nearly over to that 
road, to ride with him. Not only did we thus have opportu- 
nity to follow down one of these little streams that fertilize 


the richest part of these great estates, bat also of seeing 
haying upon a scale eclipsing anything dreamed of in our 
Eastern farming. Numerous machines were mowing down 
the dark green grass, which requires to lie only an hour or 
two without turning before it is gathered up by the horse- 
rakes and carted away, perfectly cured, to increase the bulk 
of the great haystacks which are perhaps the most promi- 
nent landmarks on the great plain. In one place we stopped 
to rest between two arranged parallel to each other, which 
could scarcely have been less than one hundred and twenty- 
five feet long and thirty feet high. 

In our ride we passed through a comer of the great ^^ Luis 
Maria Baca Grant " of the map, or, as it is locally called, 
"The Oilpin Banch,'' from its purchaser. Governor Gilpin, — 
an estate of one hundred and forty-four square miles, — a 
square twelve miles on a side. One could not fail to run 
his eye with interest along the wire fence that marked its 
northern limit, when told that it was on the thirty-eighth 
parallel. For once a parallel of latitude seemed to have a 
tangible existence — if a barbed-wire fence can be called 
" tangible." I was informed that the present proprietor could 
cut ^' thirty thousand tons of hay and have pasture enough for 
ten thousand head of cattle." This immense estate must con- 
tain many square miles of no market value, running as it does 
high up on the Sangre de Cristo range. Within this unpro- 
ductive tract falls one glorious section of real estate that any 
one might be proud to own. This is the mighty Crestone Peak, 
an enormous and seemingly inaccessible mountain, rising to 
the height of 14,288 feet -(nearly 7,000 feet above its base),— 
the towering savage giant of the range. He is by no means 
alone. A whole group of his kindred, almost his peers, are 
within easy hail. They seem ready to advance the one little 
step, and stamp out of existence the puny race engaged in 
antrlike diligence at their feet. Most great mountains impress 
one as much perhaps by their mass as by their altitude. 
These are great shattered donjon-keeps of a race fit to inhabit 
Jupiter. They simply tower and threaten. 

Parting from our newly made friend a* half-past nine, we 
resumed our pilgrimage ; and noon found us at Star Ranch, 


the only house so far as we knew between ihe *^ hay-camp '' 
and Medano. It was deserted ; even the water of ^e pump 
was gone beyond recall. Seeking shelter from the sun under 
the north wall of the adobe house, we ate the lunch furnished 
us at San Isabel in yiew of this possibility, and were espe- 
cially grateful for our canteen of milk, which was simply price- 
less in this parched waste. 

If in the course of the afternoon any one had met us and 
asked what we were doing in that forsaken place, I think 
it would have puzzled us to tell. Not for miy pleasures we 
were then and there enjoying, and those previously anticipated 
seemed still far away. To be sure, we had no sand to com- 
plain of ; the soil was a sort of alkaline clay. The road was 
— or, rather, it was not ; so seldom do vehicles pass this way 
that almost every vestige of a road had disappeared. It was 
as plain as ever, however, on the map. The heat was intense. 
Occasionally we were glad even to seek the ridiculous shade 
of the greasewood brush, with its foot or two of dusty, thorny 
inhospitality. Thirst was added, but not a drop of potable 
water was to be had. At last, as if in irony, the approach of the 
desired moisture was announced, yet in a way little desir- 
able. The clouds, whose gathering we had hailed with, joy as 
they served to obscure the pitiless sun, now portended a 
tempest of the first magnitude. Fortunately we were ap- 
proaching a ranch. Breaking for it in hot haste, we reached 
its shelter just as a most furious down-pour of rain, snow, 
hail, and sleet, with electrical accompaniments, burst upon 
the plain. Here we were detained until nearly sunset. 

Medano Springs — or, what is the same thing, Mr. D.'s 
cattle-ranch — was the. adjoining estate. The house lay 
about two miles westward over a sandy moor. Moistened 
and beaten down by the shower, our old enemy was power- 
less to delay us, and as darkness fell we approached the 
extensive ranch buildings and heard the stroke of the even- 
ing bell, — the call to supper. For picturesque effect we 
could hardly have arrived more opportunely. As the door 
was opened in response to our knock, there sat the whole 
company at their evening meal. At the head of the table 
with quiet dignity was seated the young proprietor, and on 


eitlier side four op five of his men, — the cowboys of the Far 
West, but not of the boisterous, rollicking type of recent liter- 
ature. On stating our case we were made welcome and 
given seats at the table. 

Of the many things we talked of that evening in our host's 
delightful bachelor quarters, perhaps the most interesting to 
us was our proposed ascent of the mighty peak that now 
seemed within our grasp. It shortly appeared, however, that 
it would be impossible for us to get away early enough in the 
morning to warrant the ascent on the morrow ; so we decided 
to make an easy day of it, and reach the alleged saw-mill in 
the late afternoon. It surprised us somewhat that our host 
knew of no saw-mill in the section Indicated. That night we 
passed comfortably in a tent, as, for reasons of discriminating 
hospitality, our host did not wish to have us sleep, or try to 
sleep, in an old ranch house. 

Morning dawned brightly, and found us for once under no 
stress to hasten on. This being the day set apart for an 
ascent, it seemed proper to recognize the fact symbolically. 
In the yard stood one of those windmills for pumping water 
which, next to haystacks, are the most prominent landmarks 
of these plains. It was not so high as a mountain nor so 
sightly as a watch-tower, but it would serve. Ascending to its 
upper platform, the self-delegated celebrant ^^ took in the en- 
circling vastness." We were now at the widest point of the 
Park. Far in the west, at least fifty miles away, rose the 
La Oarita Mountains, beyond which are the sources of 
the Rio Grande in glorious San Juan. Southward the plain 
extended almost as far, to the mesas near the boundary of New 
Mexico. In the east, almost within arm's length, stood Sierra 
Blanca, perhaps more complex and extensive than from any 
other point of view. Fully half way down — true to its name 
— it was white indeed with yesterday's new-fallen snow. On 
its left a ponderous noi*tliwesterly spur culminated in a fine 
dome, not very unlike, that day, to the summit of Mt. Blanc. 
Behind it the range recedes, and the mountains to the north- 
ward for some distance are less lofty. Here the range is 
crossed by two trails, the Mosca and Sandhill passes, leading 
to Huerfano Park. Yet farther north rise the great peaks 


near Crestone ; while in the far distance, beyond the north- 
erly confines of the San Luis valley, we could still distinguish 
the peaks of the Saguache range, — among them Shavano, on 
whose summit two months before we had learned that the 
lightning has its sportive moments.^ A few miles away in 
the northeast lay the great dunes ; and, what was less inter- 
esting, the domain of silica stretched southward from them 
and occupied the whole space between us and the base of 
Blanca, — a region seven miles in width that we were to 
traverse before dinner, which our host informed us we should 
find at their main ranch house at Zapato. The sooner then 
we got under way, the better. 

We started at about nine o'clock. It is needless to dwell 
upon this portion of our walk ; it would merely be a repeti- 
tion. It was sand and greasewood all the way. Nothmg re- 
lieved its monotony except the clean-cut tracks of the coyotes 
in the wet silica, and the passing of a ^ prairie-schooner " off 
our starboard bow, apparently a new settler coming in. He 
had struck out for himself, and was making painfully slow 
headway with his two-mule team amid the greasewood. 

Zapato, on Zapato Creek (thirty miles back we had heard it 
called "Spatter Crick," — such is the naturalizing force of our 
English speech!), was reached in due season. Was it really 
the pleasantest of the great ranches we had seen ; or did it 
merely seem so because here we were able to enjoy the mid- 
day rest we had planned for each of our days, but which we 
had failed to secure hitherto ? Or was it possibly because 
Fortune so arranged as to allow us to enjoy for an hour or 
two almost a sense of proprietorship? The superintendent 
and his wife had gone away for the day hunting ducks along 
the creeks and on the shores of the alkaline ponds ; but the 
servant, hearing whence we came and with what message, 
bade us make ourselves at home while she prepared us a 

And so we stretched ourselves out in the cool shade of the 
cottonwoods, lazily gleaned the columns of the latest Eastern 
papers (from Chicago and St. Louis ! ) and discussed the won- 
derful transparency of Colorado air, as now, near meridian, 
1 See Afpalacbza, yoL y. p. 23& 


we could plainly see the thin crescent of the waning moon 
hardly more than an hour^s distance from the dazzling sun. 
Our eyes also scanned the great Sierra, on whose western 
hem we now were lying. Just at hand was the opening of 
the cafion out of which flows Zapato Creek. This inhospi- 
table gulch led in towards the base of a grand rocky peak, to 
the steep sides of which only narrow stripes of snow could 
cling, and which we thought might be Blanca Peak itself. If 
BO, a promising way of ascent would be by the ridge on the 
right of the cafion. But was this peak the goal of our long 
journey ? In our uncertainty we were glad to learn that there 
was camping near by a man who had celebrated last Fourth 
of July by ascending one of the peaks of the Sierra. After 
enjoying our excellent dinner (had we known what was in 
store for us we should have eaten yet more heartily), we pro- 
ceeded to interview this interesting patriot. It proved, how- 
ever, that he had been merely to the end of the nearest ridge, 
and could give us no information of importance, not even as 
to the identity of the peak before us, nor the location of the 
wished-for mill. We were advised to make inquiry at the 
next ranch, a short distance beyond. Here we were told 
that there was no saw-mill in the vicinity, that the great crag 
seen up the cafion was not Blanca Peak, nor should we see it 
until we came to the ranch of Seiior Luciano Lucero, twelve 
miles beyond, where we could pass the night and make the 
ascent the next day. 

Here, at least, was something definite, yet so entirely dif- 
ferent from what we had counted upon. The fact that 
every mile we now moved southward would at least bring us 
nearer to Fort Oarland and presumably diminish the distance 
we should have to travel on the morrow, turned the scale in 
favor of abandoning the ascent from Zapato and walking on 
to Seiior Lucero's. We were now upon a passably good road, 
the best we had found since leaving the upper portion of the 
Park. It is the old government trail, and skirts the base of 
the mountain high enough up to keep in good travelling. 
Just above us began the timber belt, the dark pi&ons creeping 
well up the slope. Below us stretched the plain, more ver- 
dant for some miles than it had been hitherto, but it was the 


unattractiye verdare of a swampy moor. We passed several 
ranches of new settlers, to whom this section is proving espe- 
cially attractive. We were now swinging around the end of 
the long ridge that we had seen from Villa Orove. New 
spurs revealed themselves, and at length a glorious peak 
which we decided could be nothing less than the highest peak 
of the Rockies in the United States, the aim of our long seek- 
ing. With eager interest we scanned its ridges. Our eyes on 
the mountain, we hardly noticed the change coming over the 
region through which we were passing, the little stretches 
of sand we now and then crossed, the dry arroyos. Hardly 
did we deign to pay attention to the coyotes — the first we 
had seen — that occasionally sneaked away through the brush 
at a goodly distance, keeping their muzzles towards us as they 
retreated. These, the jack-rabbits,— of which we had seen a 
few the day before, — and the omnipresent prairie dogs were 
the only animals we saw during our trip. Among reptiles, we 
noticed only the horned toad ; not a snake of any sort. 

By five o'clock we began to look for signs of the ranch, 
which we knew we must be nearing. The whole country was 
visible for some miles in the general direction of the road, 
but nothing in that quarter indicated the abode of man. Well 
up the slope, some distance beyond us, we saw what might be 
houses ; but on approaching, tiiey turned into great rocks at 
the edge of the timber. Lucero is Spanish for the morning 
star, for something bright and splendid. We pondered if it 
might also mean will-o'-the-wisp, and whether it were a mere 
name we were following over the prairie. We turned to seek 
the ranch house up in the timber, where we saw trees taller 
than the rest. The abode of our future host was in no syl- 
van glade. In descending from the timber we kept well up 
on the slope of the mountain, and, following a contour line 
around the end of the spur we were skirting, sighted the low 
buildings well in towards the base, only a mile or so dis- 
tant, standing in the midst of a patch of verdure covering 
several acres, — an oasis in the brown plain, — but not a tree 
anywhere about them. In the shadow of the hills they were 
hardly visible. We started for them on the double-quick, 
scaled the rail fence surrounding the enclosure, and directly 


were enjoying the novel sensation of straggling throngh tall 
grass and wetting our feet in the irrigating water that every- 
where was overflowing the meadow. It came from a stream 
that here breaks out of a ravine, and to whose kindly service 
is due this island of yerdure. 

We approached the house in the early twilight. Yes, we 
were surely as good as in Spanish America. It was built of 
adobe ; the one door and two windows on the side towards 
us were closed for the night, the latter with wooden shutters. 
Two men were engaged in dressing a sheep hung up on 
the outer wall. Approaching, we asked in such Gastilian 
as we could muster — Mexican was not in our assortment — 
whether this was the ranch of Seiior Lucero, and whether 
we might ask the favor of being presented to him. The 
reader will pardon me if I do not transcribe the reply; 
but the substance of it was satisfactory. One of the pair left 
his work and escorted us into the house. The door opened 
into a broad passage-way which led directly through the build- 
ing to a similar door on the opposite side. That was open, 
and by it sat a group of men and boys. To one of the former 
we were presented, a very pleasant dark-bearded ranchero on 
the sunny side of fifty. Though young, enterprising, and 
thrifty, he had never learned the English language. Among 
those who were seated with him was one who knew some 
English, and for some moments he proved a useful auxiliary. 
His linguistic attainments were in demand in helping break 
the ice. By the time he had to withdraw, — he was a visit- 
ing neighbor, — the senior member of our tramping duo was 
engaged in the dubious recreation of smoking cigarettes with 
our host, and in a nimbus of Spanish tobacco smoke opening 
his mind to a reflux of that long-neglected language. 

The family had been to supper, but the table was set anew 
for us. A young Mexican friend of mine has told me how 
long he was in the United States before he could relish any- 
thing, even at so good a table as Parker's. It was somewhat 
the same with us in this i*epresentative little Mexico. This 
formality over, we proceeded to our apartment, — one of four 
large square rooms opening two on a side upon the passage- 
way just mentioned. It must have been' twenty-five feet 



square. Its one window was sealed with a solid shntter. In 
one comer was a queer oven-like aperture, from which a 
short flue led up to a little above the roof. It was a fireplace* 
This was the leading article of furniture; for one could 
hardly regard in that light the only other articles in the room, 
— a low bench with two pans of milk, and a few articles of 
feminine apparel hanging upon pegs on the wall. We regret- 
ted that the pans of milk were afterwards removed. But 
now two chairs were brought in, and the bed was made up 
after the fashion of the country, which was so unique as to 
deserve description. First, something like a plaid shawl was 
spread on the clean floor, and on this was laid the mattress 
covered with a sack of fresh linen. The clothing consisted 
of a sheet, a thin comforter, and a Navajo blanket. The pil- 
low cases were tidily trimmed with edging. 

Upon this very comfortable couch we soon disposed our- 
selves, but it was long before either of us fell asleep. The 
novelty of our situation, the strange sound of bleating sheep 
and lowing cattle gathered close about the house (the flock of 
sheep contained some 2,700 individuals), the hilarious out- 
burst within and without that accompanied a passing call 
from a party going home from a fandango^ a fancied descent 
on the fold suggested by the continued barking of the great 
dogs, were not conducive to slumber. We spoke of the 
variety in the three nights we had passed in San Luis Park, 
and wondered what novelty the next would have to offer. K 
our plans were carried out, we should certainly not have so 
much space and fresh air : we should be in a narrow-gauge 
" sleeper," and very likely in upper berths at that. 

We were up long before the sun, but it was six o'clock 
before we parted from our Mexican hosts. The intervening 
time had not been wholly lost, for we had determined just 
how we would make the ascent of our peak. Apparently 
it could be done in either of two ways. One of these was by 
ascending the spur of the mountain nearest to us and follow- 
ing on to a cuchilloj or knife edge, that led directly up to the 
beautiful peak now soaring so gracefully into the sapphire 
sky, bathed from base to summit in the pure light of early 
morning. To be sure, in one or two places it looked as if 


we might find trouble or risky climbing. The alternative 
was to take a similar ridge on the other side of a little cafion, 
pass over or aronnd a quite lofty summit, then follow an 
apparently easy ridge which disappeared behind our peak, but 
which we felt sure must lead around to it from the rear. Our 
choice was so evenly balanced that it took but a straw to 
determine it. This was furnished in the advice of our host. 
Well, we shall not lay it up against him ! 

Stepping out into the glorious sunlight, — alas ! since my 
return to the East, the clearest noonday seems late afternoon 
by contrast with that luminous Colorado atmosphere, — we 
struck for the foot of our spur. To reach it one must cross 
a belt of timber, — a by no means pretty entrance upon the 
business of the day. The soil, if soil it can be called, cov- 
ers with seemingly hardly more than a film the debris of the 
mountain, — gravel and cobble-stones gullied with dry water- 
courses. It seemed as if it could hardly more than support the 
plentiful prickly-pear and yucca, — those hermaphrodites of 
the organic and inorganic world, — with their vicious armory 
of needles and bayonets. But here too was an open forest 
of gnarled piiions, between which we were dodging to find 
the best way. For me, as I wore tennis-shoes through which 
the spines of the nopales pierced like so many cambric nee- 
dles, it was a question of avoiding these vegetable porcupines 
as much as possible, or of finding good places to sit down 
and take off my foot-gear to extract the little thorns for which 
I had no use. This belt of timber ends near where the chief 
stream from this part of the Sierra comes dashing noisily out 
of its little canon. Bearing at once to the left and up a steep 
bank, we stood upon a minor ridge, leading on to the spur of 
the great arrdte which we had chosen for our ascent. This 
lowest ridge was free of timber ; but on striking the spur we 
again entered a sparsely wooded region, through which we 
climbed for the next hour. This passed, we were well above 
timber-line, with nothing but fragments of rock strewing the 
mountain side on every haiid. 

This is the time when the climber with the greatest fund 
of resources within himself and the best wind is at an ad- 
vantage. Little that is new meets the eye after one has 


made perhaps his hundredth stop to catch his fleeting breath. 
The latest novelty we had observed was a light column of smoke 
rising from a ravine some distance east of wh^re we had 
struck the stream. It merely excited a momentary curiosity, 
and we returned to business. For lack of sleep, or some 
other cause, we did not gain rapidly on our spur. We had 
counted on reaching the peak by noon, — and under more 
favorable conditions it would easily have been done, — but at 
that hour we had actuietlly barely reached the junction of our 
spur with the greater ridge. 

But now the real interest of the ascent began, for the 
situation became truly grand. On its southerly side, that of 
our approach, the ridge fell off steeply, perhaps at an angle 
of 40'' ; but on the north it dropped sheer hardly less than 
2,000 feet, into one of those profound, desolate gulches, of 
which so many seek the heart of this mighty mountain. 
In its bottom, which showed no vestige of tree or other 
vegetation, lay chilly lakelets green as grass into which it 
seemed as if we might toss a pebble. Beyond lay a series 
of similar ridges and gorges. A north and south line would 
cut at least four arretes similar to that on which we stood. 
Our glance followed the trend of this head-wall up to the 
summit of our peak, still more than a thousand feet above 
us, as inapproachable from the side of the ravine as a tower 
of adamant. Though our cuchiUo was quite narrow, it 
was an easy matter to make rapid progress, especially as 
it at first descended slightly into a depression. Just be- 
yond this point was the place where from below it had 
seemed as if we might find difficulty ; but, on approaching it, 
what had appeared a precipice proved far less steep and 
permitted ready passage. Beyond this place, however, the 
ascent becomes quite abrupt, and to my companion proved 
toilsome, so that at times he was some distance in the rear. 

Once while waiting for him to come up, I seemed to hear 
a voice not his. He, however, had heard nothing. A few 
minutes later he exclaimed, " Why, certainly ! I do hear some 
one talking ! " Instantly we were on the alert, and scanned 
attentively the ridge on our right, the one we had decided not 
to take. Along its yellow crest two or three diminutive 


black lines could be seen moving, but fearfully out of pro- 
portion with the good-sized voices that reached our ears, borne 
on the light breeze that blew from that direction. The 
figures were upright ; members wee as those of insects could 
be made out. They were men. By a remarkable coinci- 
dence two parties were on the same day making the ascent 
of a mountain almost never attempted. 

In an instant a working theory was framed to accOimt 
for so strange a circumstance. We had written to a gentle- 
man residing in a town of San Luis Park, who had been 
upon Blanca with the party of the United States Survey under 
Dr. Hayden, the same from whom we heard indirectly with 
regard to the ascent by the western ridge ; we had asked for 
further information, and that his reply might meet us at 
Leadville. In that letter the day had been named when we 
should probably reach the base of Blanca prepared for the 
ascent. Was it not more than possible that in a reply, which 
had miscarried, he had arranged to meet us with a party, and 
make the ascent with us; that when we failed to appear 
at the rendezvous his party had decided to carry out its 
plan, which was now so near fulfilment ; that the smoke 
which we had seen in the morning was from their camp-fire? 
It seemed very plausible. And shortly we should meet on 
the summit. But who would be there first ? It was hardly 
an open question. They were fully a mile away. With us 
it was only a question of minutes. We shouted across 
to them, and once or twice thought they heard us and an- 
swered. With pleased expectancy lieightening the joy of 
approaching the goal of our long journey we clambered on, 
and at two o'clock reached the topmost crag. 

But why this sudden change of mood ? Why this repres- 
sion of natural and permissible exultation ? Is it no ground 
for pure and expansive joy to be poised upon a granite pin- 
nacle more than 14,000 feet above the distant sea?^ — to see 
on your right hand a sheer plunge of 3,000 feet; on your 
left another hardly less profound, hardly less sheer; and 
behind you, between you and the distant snowy peaks, as it 
were, only the steep ridge up which you have climbed? 
1 My companion's aneroid marked 14,400 feet 


No ! not if before you, nearly two mUes away, across a most 
formidable arr6te, there lies a yet higher peak to which be- 
long the honors yon have been mistakenly conferring upon 
this one. No ! not if in an instant vanish all hopes of reach- 
ing the goal you had set for yourself. Threefold no ! not if 
you see treading where by the turning of a hand you yourself 
now might have been, a successful party that in a quarter 
of an hour will be legitimately enjoying the sense of exulta- 
tion that was traitorously welling up in your own soul a few 
moments ago. The arr^te we had decided not to take did 
not swing around to our peak, but we now saw it making 
straight for a monstrous truncated pyramid of sombre rock 
perhaps two hundred feet higher than the summit on which 
we were standing, the real Blanca Peak.^ Between us and 
it lay the impossible. 

I do not mean to say that the intervening arr€te cannot 
be traversed. Forbidding as it looks, I believe it can be ; and 
had it been two hours earlier in the day we should have 
attempted it. Perhaps what we actually did was as difficult. 
But it was now after two o'clock. Two hours was the least 
time it would do to allow for crossing that ragged cuchiUo. 
To get down even to timber-line after four o'clock seemed 
out of the question ; and a night without shelter, fire, or even 
a wrap at that elevation was not to be thought of. On the 
other hand, it seemed as if there were still a good chance of 
reaching Garland in time for the train and being but a single 
day behind our schedule. More than to reach the summit of 
Blanca Peak did it seem to me desirable to reach Colorado 
Springs, for it was two weeks since I had had letters from 
home, and, again, it was time for me to relieve the anxiety 
of others. We tarried therefore only long enough to see a 

^ The view of Blanca Peak in the frontispiece (Plate XIH) was taken by 
Mr. F. H. Chapin two months before oar visit. It is from a point east of south 
of Blanca Peak, and shows a different face from the one we looked on, — our 
summit lying southwest of the principal peak. The general appearance of the 
great rode dome is, if anything, more impressiye from that direction. The stoiy 
of Mr. Chapin's unsuccessful attack on the mountain is given on pages 23&-2^ 
of this volume. The sportsman in the picture is his companion, Mr. William 
Carson, — son of the famous Kit Carson, — who has since &llen victim to a gun- 
shot accident. 


little black line pricking the sky fix)m the top of that elusive 
summit, to wonder that so diminutive a thing could hold so 
big an emotion as must be bom of standing in that place. 
Must it not surround it for a dozen rods as an atmosphere ? 
Not waiting to answer this malicious question, we turned our 
backs on the glories, the enjoyment of which had been so 
greatly diminished by disappointmenti the necessity of sud- 
den deliberation, and haste. 

It was decided not to retrace our steps, but to strike 
directly towards Garland, chiefly on account of an alterna- 
tive which this plan offered; namely, of intercepting the 
other party on the way down, and passing the night, if neces- 
sary, in their camp. The execution of this plan meant a 
descent into the great gorge east of our peak, — a somewhat 
breakneck proceeding at first glance, but really one that 
would only demand the exercise of caution all along the 
way. If it did not prove feasible, we would take no great 
risks, but make our way back to our ridge and return as 
we came. 

I do not desire to exaggerate the difficulties of that descent. 
I fancy, however, they are not so much less than would be 
met in the descent of the Matterhom on the Theodule side, 
the easiest. In any event it was the most protracted and 
varied bit of down-hill work that it was our fortune to attempt 
during our summer in the Rockies. We bore for a point con- 
siderably to the right (south) of the high peak on that opposite 
ridge. In due time we had reached the bottom of the vast 
ravine, and stood once more beside the stream which we had 
seen much lower down in the early morning, yet already quite 
a brook. It rises in the lakelets high up in this gulch, which 
are fed by the melting snows. Springs also must contribute 
their part, for at the time of our visit very little snow lay in 
these southern ravines of Blanca. 

We now had to make our way up the opposite side, though 
perhaps not more than seven or eight hundred feet vertically, 
part of the way through timber, which indicates that the 
floor of the ravine into which we had descended lay at least 
8,000 feet below our summit. The ascent for the first three 
hundred feet was a sharp climb, in one place almost perpendic- 


ular for a little way, yet with good holds for feet and hands. 
Then came a long clamber oyer rock-slides. In about an hour 
the crest was reached. We then saw that the great ridge 
below the peak had divided not far above where we stood, 
and we were looking into the depression between these two 
subordinate ridges. It was manifestly hopeless to think of 
getting farther than the camp of the party we had seen on the 
peak. It seemed as if by this time they should be coming down, 
and not very far away. We shouted, but no answer came back. 
We started again, somewhat in doubt, as the sun was already 
low, whether we should get in before dark. We bore diago- 
nally downward and towards the side of the opposite ridge, 
around the end of which we must pass to reach the ravine 
where we had seen the smoke. By the time we had reached 
a point that allowed a view into it, the sun had set. To 
our great satisfaction, however, we could now plainly see two 
bright fires dancing in the dusk that filled the ravine. For 
these we headed, making what' time we could over broken rock 
and through patches of aspen chapparal ; but the oncoming 
September night was swifter than we, and long before we had 
reached the foot of the slope we were moving at a snaiPs pace 
through darkness as deep as there would be at any hour 
in that starlit night. We shouted down to the camp-fires, 
surdy now within hearing distance, but no answer was re- 
turned. Something must be done to hasten our speed. It 
was proposed that we join hands and go down one in front of 
the other. In this way the one in advance would set his foot 
more confidently, and the one behind would not hesitate to 
step into his place as soon as he vacated it. Thus time would 
be gained. The plan was found to work perfectly, and during 
the next half-hour we made good progress. 

Before nine o'clock we were in the bottom of the ravine, 
and soon standing beside the nearer of the two fires. To our 
surprise it lighted up no camp. The wind was swirling its 
sparks most lavishly, but no one was tending it. Just at 
hand was huddled a flock of sheep, that bleated plaintively. 
Our vision of a camp of mountaineers vanished like a dream. 
We hastened on to the second fire, a few hundred yards dis- 
tant, taking the precaution to call out " Amigo% " as we drew 


near. Whom should we find there ? In all probability Mexi- 
cans. The question was soon answered. As we approached, 
an old man of nearly seventy years of age crept out from a 
shelter of boughs built under a twisted pifion-tree, and, stand- 
ing in the light of his fire, with his sole companion, a homely 
little dog, bade us welcome. Ho seemed really glad to see us ; 
he had heard our shouts, but naturally had not known what 
to make of them. Estrella seemed less ready to make friends 
with us. 

We sat down by the fire and discussed the situation. The 
old shepherd informed us that we were within seven miles 
of Garland. Strange to say, we felt for the moment less 
weary than we had felt twelve hours before, and seriously 
considered keeping on to that place, where at least we should 
find beds some time before morning. But on the whole the 
alternative of passing the night on the ground next to the 
cheery fire, about which a good store of dry pifion, the best 
of fuel, had been gathered, proved more attractive. The old 
Mexican also put a aerape at our disposal. 

For myself, though I had eaten but a few mouthfuls of food 
and drank perhaps a pint of milk since a light half-past-five- 
o'clock breakfast, sleep was the more desirable refreshment. 
I lay down, turned my face to the ground, and a few min- 
utes later was hardly conscious of my companion's arranging 
under my head a pillow of pifion needles, «- so soon was I 
asleep. My first nap over, I awoke feeling chilly. My com- 
panion had meanwhile strolled off to try his luck by the 
other fire. The old pastor was groaning with rheumatism in 
his shelter of boughs. It seemed as if he really might be 
missing his serape, so he was urged to receive it back. The 
rest of the night was spent in keeping up the fire, and tak- 
ing cat-naps near enough to its flame to run the risk of 

Morning dawned and we arose. Somehow the German 
way of putting it — " we stood up " — seems more completely 
to express the great simplicity of this matutinal act in the 
present instance. Breakfast was first in order. Our host 
took down from a limb of his roof-tree a veritable coffee- 
mill, and proceeded to grind and boil a triple ration. He 


also brought out a couple of stale torttUaSy sent up to him 
as a luxury by some of his compatriots in the valley, which 
my companion aptly characterized as ^^a cross between a 
cracker and a griddle-cake." Our contribution was the rem- 
nant of a can of boned turkey, left over from the luncheon 
of the day before. From this ^lay-out" we made at least a 
formal breakfast. 

Leaving my companion to settle with the veteran which 
understood more of the other's vernacular, I now took a turn 
back up the mountain perhaps half a mile for an article I 
especially valued that I had had the misfortune to leave 
behind about where we had joined hands to descend together. 
In going and returning I had ample occasion to wonder at 
the speed we had made in the dark, and to appreciate the 
chances of bad falls we had avoided. Indeed it seemed as 
if with daylight I made hardly better progress much of the 
way. On my return it appeared that the Mexican had taken 
the prize. He was the possessor of one English word, — a 
very expressive one to us in view of the outcome of our 
previous day's adventure, — the single word "^orry." We 
left him with his woolly companions, his dog, and his sorrow 
at about seven o'clock. 

At eleven o'clock we reached Garland. As we approached 
the '^ Fourth Avenue Hotel " our eyes fell upon the figure of a 
gentleman obviously from the East, and apparently a profes- 
sional man. My prophetic soul told me that he was one of 
those we had envied and almost hated the day before. So 
it was; but all such sentiments vanished upon nearer ac- 
quaintance. He was the chief of a party of journalists visit- 
ing Coloi'ado in the interest of " Harper's Weekly." They 
had spent parts of three days in the visit to Blanca, camping 
high up on Cottonwood Greek, far to the east of where we had 
fancied their camp to be. They had ventured to stay too 
long on the peak, and had not reached their camp until mid- 
night, after a far longer descent in the darkness than we had 
had. They had not seen us, but had heard shouts that some- 
what puzzled them ; they had decided, however, that they must 
have come from laggards of their own scattered party. They 
were naturally jubilant, especially as they believed themselves 











to be the first persons to stand .on Blanca Peak. This error 
had been fostered bj the residents at Garland, who seem to 
be unaware that this was a station of Hajden's Survey. 

At Garland we found baggage that we had sent around bj 
railroad. It was more than welcome. Our first care, how- 
ever, was to dispose of the substantial dinner set before us. 
Then a long nap made up for some of the ofcher deficiencies 
of the past forty-eight hours. We were stirring and in our 
good clothes long enough before supper to pay a formal visit 
to the abandoned fort and take a farewell look of the noble 

As you look upon ft from Garland, four peaks stand dis- 
played in fine array. To the right, isolated from the rest, 
rises the yellow mass of ^^ Old Baldy," with a great excres- 
cence on its westerly slope. Then come, in close proximity to 
each other and apparently of about equal altitude, first that 
lower summit I have several times mentioned and Blanca 
Peak. Separated from these by a long ridge line, above which 
it springs with a sudden leap, rises the majestic peak, the 
westernmost, which it was our fortune to ascend.^ In the 
view from Garland it is question whether it is not the finest 
of them all. No longer suffering the smart of disappoint- 
ment, we could- not but feel a sense of pride in having 
achieved its summit ; and as we bade farewell to Garland just 
as day was fading, as we sped in the starlight out of the San 
Luis valley and over the Yeta Pass, as we fell asleep in the 
contracted quarters we had foreseen two nights before, in the 
upper berths, true enough ! of the narrow-gauge " sleeper," it 
was with the sense of having made an excursion which, de- 
spite all its little hardships and disappointments, had fully 
repaid by its variety of scenery and incident the lavish expen- 
diture of time and effort. ' 

^ In Plate XIV. the peak scaled by us is seen on the left Ascending from 
the side here looked upon, we reached the crest at the top of the second swell 
to the left on the descending ridge, and practically followed the sky-line to the 
summit. In descending, we followed approximately the steep line of snow ver- 
tically under the peak, but which had melted at the time of our visit 

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to be the first persons to stand .on Blanca Peak. This error 
had been fostered by the residents at Grarland, who seem to 
be unaware that this was a station of Hajden's Survey. 

At Garland we found baggage that we had sent around by 
railroad. It was more than welcome. Our first care, how- 
ever, was to dispose of the substantial dinner set before us. 
Then a long nap made up for some of the other deficiencies 
of the past forty-eight hours. We were stirring and in our 
good clothes long enough before supper to pay a formal visit 
to the abandoned fort and take a farewell look of the noble 

As you look upon ft from Garland, four peaks stand dis- 
played in fine array. To the right, isolated from the rest, 
rises the yellow mass of " Old Baldy,'* with a great excres- 
cence on its westerly slope. Then come, in close proximity to 
each other and apparently of about equal altitude, first that 
lower summit I have several times mentioned and Blanca 
Peak. Separated from these by a long ridge line, above which 
it springs with a sudden leap, rises the majestic peak, the 
westernmost, which it was our fortune to ascend.^ In the 
view from Garland it is question whether it is not the finest 
of them all. No longer suffering the smart of disappoint- 
ment, we could- not but feel a sense of pride in having 
achieved its summit ; and as we bade farewell to Garland just 
as day was fading, as we sped in the starlight out of the San 
Luis valley and over the Yeta Pass, as we fell asleep in the 
contracted quarters we had foreseen two nights before, in the 
upper berths, true enough ! of the narrow-gauge " sleeper," it 
was with the sense of having made an excursion which, de- 
spite all its little hardships and disappointments, had fully 
repaid by its variety of scenery and incident the lavish expen- 
diture of time and effort. • 

^ In Plate XIV. the peak scaled bj us is seen on the left Ascending from 
the side here looked upon, we reached the crest at the top of the second swell 
to the left on the descending ridge, and practically followed the sky-line to the 
summit. In descending, we followed approximately the steep line of snow rer- 
tically under the peak, but which had melted at the time of our visit 


Alpine Flowers of Colorado. 

Bt Mrs. G. W. Tuacher. 

From the moment that we axrived m Colorado, in the earlj 
spring of 1887, until the September evening, eighteen months 
later, when, starting on onr journey homeward across the 
plains, we watched Pike's Peak, deep blue against a golden 
sky, fade slowly from sight in the deepening twilight, the wild 
flowers were a continual source of enjoyment and delight to 
us. Suddenly sent away that we might escape from the 
bleak east-winds of New England, we found ourselves in a 
land of sunshine where March was as warm and summer-like 
as June, and day followed day of brilliant blue sky and balmy 
air, while lawns grew green, birds sang, and the early ^' dai- 
sies" opened their shining white blossoms on the plains. 
Along the sidewalks and in all the open lots in the city 
mysterious little tufts of green were springing up ; and only 
the botanist who finds himself for the first time in a strange 
land can appreciate the eagerness with which we watched 
these small leaves and buds as they slowly unfolded. 

From each ride over the plains and each excursion into the 
cafions we brought home new treasures. By the last of May 
the tide of blossoms was at its height. Wild roses, spiraeas, 
and exquisite white-flowering raspberry waved their blossom- 
ing branches in luxuriant profusion over the streams in the 
cafions, and slender lines of yellow columbines marked the 
courses of the little rills which here and there came trickling 
down from far up among the rocky walls to join the larger 
streams below. Great patches of senecio, the golden ragwort, 
— which delights in wet meadows in New England, but wliich 
seems equally at home in the dry soil of Colorado, — formed 
broad bands of brilliant yellow on the plains ; while in other 
places the ground was covered with dazzling scarlet castilleia, 
similar to the painted-cup which Thoreau used to hail with 
joy in his June rambles in Concord meadows, but .which now 
grows more* and more shy and hard to find. There were hosts 


of others: pink and white composite flowers, bright yellow peas, 
and Western wall-flowers; penstemons, crimson, white, and 
exquisite sky-blue; and purple clematis, covering rock and 
shrub and even pine branches with its graceful wreaths. 

But I will not linger any longer over these flowers of the 
plains and the caflons in their bewildering ari*ay, for it is 
especially of the alpine flowers that I wish to speak, — the 
flowers which grow on the heights near the snow, in that 
charmed region known as "above timber-line.*' These I 
seldom saw growing in their own homes during our first 
summer in Colorado ; but the two Appalachians who together 
climbed Long's Peak, Table Mountain, etc., were always 
charged when they started off to bring back specimens of all 
the flowers that they found. The battered old botanical case 
which had done good service on many a long ramble through 
New England woods and meadows was now fastened to the 
saddle, or patiently carried on some long climb, to be eagerly 
opened at the close of the day and its treasures examined by 
candle-light in our little cabin-room in Estes Park. But at 
last, near the end of June, 1888, 1 had the long-desired pleas- 
ure of finding the alpine flowers in their own haunts. We 
had been slowly toiling up the long Cheyenne Toll Road all 
day, and at last, late in the afternoon, after an especially 
steep, wearisome bit of road, had reached a little alpine 
meadow a mile or two from the log-house at Seven Lakes, 
to which we were bound. All sense of fatigue was forgotten as 
we stopped to gather our first alpine primroses and the bright 
sunshiny flowers of the geum (Geum Rossii). This is, per- 
haps, the most abundant of all the flowers with which we 
became familiar on the high summits of the Front range. It 
comes early and stays late ; and even when the brilliant yel- 
low blossoms are nearly gone, the finely dissected leaves give 
a warm, rich coloring to the grassy mountain slopes, for with 
the first frosty nights in August they turn to a deep maroon 
or wine color. An hour later, we were exploring the field in 
front of the Seven Lakes House. Here were many speci- 
mens of the rare Sibbaldia procumbens, so eagerly sought for 
by enthusiastic botanists on the White Mountain summits. 
There were great clusters, too, of the bright blue polemonium, 


beautiful to look at, but with a Tory strong odor, too much 
like that of our common skunk cabbage for one to venture to 
gather it. We found also a very tiny, fragile, alpine meadow- 
rue, with its little rosette of rue-leaves close to the ground 
and its slender stalk of delicate blossoms, — the whole plant 
not more than three or four inches high. By half-past four 
the next morning we were following the trail from Seven 
Lakes to Pike's Peak. The three Appalachians of our little 
party will not soon forget the delicious freshness and invigo- 
ration of that morning hour. For a mile or so our path was 
in shadow, while the huge dome-shaped mass before us, with 
its great snow-drifts, was in brilliant sunshine. Even our wise 
little burros seemed to feel the exhilaration, and needed only 
the admonitory voice of our guide, Mr. Curtis, with his cheery 
" Come, Jonathan ! " "Don't 1^, Bob ! " « Wake up, Donny ! " 
to keep them to their work, instead of the unmerciful cudgel- 
ling which we are wont to associate with these obstinate little 
creatures. Tlie wet meadows through which we wound were 
full of a shining white Caltha, or marsh-marigold. We had 
had a tantalizing glimpse of this on the summit of Marshall 
Pass, a year before, and while our train waited a few minutes 
in the cold, smoky snow-shed, two friends had made an eager 
but breathless rush outside for it — all in vain. Now we 
gathered as much of it as we liked, and with it the cream- 
white globe-flower (TroUius), which is its frequent companion 
near the snow-banks on many of the high passes in Central 
Colorado. There was also a fascinating composite flower, 
Actinella grandiflora, turning its aromatic yellow heads to 
catch the first sunbeams as they came over the ridge into the 
alpine valley. Before we reached timber-line we had found 
the stemless pink (Silene acaulis) — at home also on Mt. Wash- 
ington — and two diminutive clovers. On Pike's Peak the 
trees come to a sudden halt with a height of twenty or thirty 
feet, and there is not that gradual dwindling down to mere 
gnarled shrubs which one sees in other places. Out on the 
open grassy slopes beyond, we found gay patches of the pink, 
narrow-leaved primrose (Primula angustifolia), alternating 
with fragrant blue forget-me-nots and the exquisite little 
white flower belonging to the true primrose family, which is 


burdened with the name of Androsace Chamsjasme ! Onr 
genial guide expatiated on the beauties of the brilliant carpet 
which covers these wind-swept slopes later in the season, — 
the crimson and scarlet painted-cups, yellow senecios, and 
blue gentians, but we were well content with their more deli- 
cate forerunners. The only flower which we found on the 
very summit was a species of spring-beauty (Claytonia megar- 
rhiza), just coming into bloom in sheltered crevices among 
the rocks. This had been brought to us from 6ray*s Peak late 
in the previous summer, when the whole plant — root, leaves, 
and all — was of a deep orange-color. It has a very long, 
thick tap-root, and it seems to love the very highest places, 
as we never found it at an altitude of less than 13,000 feet. 
The sky was cloudless on this bright June morning ; but a soft 
haze hid the distant view, and the mountain ranges seemed 
very dim and far away. Tlie most satisfactory part of it was 
to look down at the lesser mountains at our feet. These, as 
we had watched them month after month from the plains, 
are apparently huddled together ; but now they separated and 
spread apart, giving us glimpses of little unsuspected moun- 
tain parks and valleys, with here and there a shining lake 
or pond. 

Ten days later we were again slowly winding our way up 
a steep mountain-side. The trail to the " Bowlder-Field" on 
Long's Peak is far more varied and interesting than the Pike's 
Peak trail. Tlie woods are very beautiful, and for a mile or 
two the path follows a rushing mountain brook, the banks of 
which are fringed with a luxuriant growth of mertensias, col- 
umbines, larkspurs, and many others. The grass is tall and 
sweet, and our horses snatched eagerly at every mouthful 
within their reach. There had been a slight fall of snow the 
previous evening, and little drifts still lay in sheltered spots 
under the trees. We had already recognized many of our old 
friends among the flowers, but just at timber-line we found our 
first new one, — an alpine phlox, with blossoms so white and 
delicate that at the first glance we thought them only snow- 
flakes. Soon after, sure-footed Dandy and Nita, and their more 
clumsy companions. Bill and Charlie, were luxuriating in the 
rich grasses, moistened by many a cold, trickling stream from 


the Bnow-fields aboye, and we had begun to cross the ^^ Bowl- 
der-Field" towards the *^ Key-hole." I think that no party 
that faithful Carlyle Lamb ever guided before, could have 
made worse time than we did in travelling that one mile ! 
The long July day was before us, and we lingered among the 
flowers to our hearts' content. Our search among the rocks 
was rewarded by the discovery of five different species of 
saxifrage ; and a tiny lily (Lloydia serotina) and a diminutive 
harebell (Campanula unifloiu) grew in the midst of the short 
grass. There were brilliant patches of deep-red stone-crop 
(Sedum Rhodiola), and many others, besides the ever^^heery 
yellow flowers of our familiar favorite, Ross's Geum. As we 
gathered them, we listened to the little streams hidden far 
down under the bowlders, and to the faint squeak of the 
conies, those feeble folk who have their homes among the 
rocks. Occasionally one of these small gray creatures would 
come out from his hiding-place, apparently as much inter- 
ested in us as we were in him. At the "Key-hole" we 
spent a long hour looking down into the tremendous basin, 
2,000 feet below, with its ice-bound lakes, and across to the 
frowning cliffs and precipices, and to endless mountain ranges 
beyond, along the distant horizon. 

There is an irresistible charm about these breezy slopes. 
As one of us exclaimed, " We should like to spend a week 
above timber-line ! " Cares and anxieties drop off and are for- 
gotten, and the air is so delicious and invigorating that it is a 
luxury to breathe. One feels that it is a glorious thing to be 
a^ive ; and the mind is divided between reverent awe at the 
stupendous wonders of peak and cliff and savage gorge on 
every side, and equal wonder at the hardy little plants which 
brave these heights and have their brief day of buddiug and 
blossoming near the snow. In one sheltered nook beyond the 
" Key-hole," we found our only specimen of the large primrose 
(Primula Parryii). This is abundant a little later ; it loves 
moisture, and grows luxuriantly in wet places among the 
rocks, sending up large succulent leaves and spikes of velvety 
crimson flowers which are very fragrant. It confines itself 
to the higher places more exclusively than some others of 
the alpine tribe, is also more perishable; no dried 


specimen can give an adequate idea of its beauty and rich 

After a never*to-be-f orgotten hour, we crossed the '^ Bowlder- 
Field " again, this time going towards the spur of the moun- 
tain which is very inaptly named Lady Washington, — for 
what reason we never could discover, — that we might look 
down into the great gulf hundreds of feet below with its sav- 
age cliffs and emerald lake. One solitary bird wheeled to and 
fro under the frowning vertical wall which forms the eastern 
face of the peak, uttering a few shrill and mournful notes, 
and we could just catch the sound of the stream which leaves 
the lake and plunges over great ledges into the rocky gorge 
below. Near us were great beds of forget-me-nots, with gray- 
ish moss-like stems seldom more tlian an inch high. They 
are exquisitely fragrant, and Bryant's lines, 

<* filae, bine as if the sky let fall 
A flower from its cemlean wall/' 

applies almost as fittingly to them as to the gentian. A little 
later in the season blue and yellow violets, primroses, and tiny 
blue columbines were brought us from the borders of this al- 
pine lake ; but when we visited it the last of August, snow- 
flakes were in the air, and of all the flowers only gentians and 
a few lingering senecios and erigerons were left. 

We found it interesting, in studying these alpine flowers, to 
compare the flora of the Western peaks with that of our White 
Mountains. Scarcely a dozen were common to both regions, 
while others differed only slightly from their Eastern sisters 
as the Western birds differ from those in the East. It is 
sometimes hard to draw the line between the true alpine flow- 
ers (those growing at 11,000 feet and upwards) and the sub- 
alpine, — never found on the plains, but often wandering far 
up the mountain sides. So the alpine ones sometimes stray 
downward and are met with at much lower levels, like the gen- 
tian (Gentiana barbellata), which several times delighted us 
with its delicious perfume in Estes Park, but which is given 
in Coulter's Manual as belonging to the ^^ alpine region of the 
Colorado Mountains.*' As for our homely yarrow, it seemed 
to follow us everywhere, — on the plains and far up above 

APPALACmA v. 19 


timber-line. We fancied, however, that on the heights it had 
a purer and more delicate aspect than it has by our dusty New 
England roadsides ; we even mistook it more than once, at a 
distance, for something new and choice. There were other 
surprises too ; as when we found the Linnaea borealis far up 
in Bear Greek Caikon, and in one or two places under Long's 
Peak. We wondered still more when the lovely Moneses uni- 
flora, which we had seen in greatest profusion in pine-woods in 
Massachusetts, was brought down from a swamp on the side 
of Tpsilon Peak. Afterwards we had a long and successful 
search for it in a very wild and remote ravine on the side of 
Table Mountain. What was it doing there, and how had it 
made its way to these high stations ? 

The brilliant summer days in Estes Park flew by only too 
swiftly, and the little procession of alpine flowers gathered on 
the mountain-sides, blossomed, and passed by. We had sought 
them eagerly for their own sake, and still more for the sake 
of the friend, herself more fragile and delicate than any one 
of them, to whom they brought delight and cheer, and forget- 
fulness of weakness and pain. For two long bright summers 
the thought of her interest in whatever we might find was 
always in our minds wherever we went, and many happy 
hours were spent with her in study and enjoyment of the 
treasures we had brought home. But she did not linger long 
after the flowers ; with the first autumn days she faded too. 
And now with all our happy life in Colorado there will always 
be associated tender and sacred memories of our friend, the 
lovely and gifted sponsor of Ypsilon Peak. 

A Partial List of the Alpine Flowers found on Pikers PeaJCj Long*8 
Pedk^ Table Mountain^ and Mummy Mountain, during the Sum- 
mers of 1887 and 1888. 

Ranunculus digitatui. Lychnis montana. 

Thalictrum alpinum. Cerastium alpinum, rar. Behringia- 

TroUius laxus, yar. albiflovos. num. 

Caltha leptosepala. Arenaria biflora, var. caraosnla. 

Viola palustris. Clajtonia megarrhiza. 

SUene acaulis. Trifolium dasyphjiium. 



Trifoliom i 
Drju octopetala. 
Geum Rossti. 

'' trifloram. 
Sibbaldia procmnbent. 
Saxifraga flageUaris. 

" chrysantha. 

'* cetpitoML 

t cernoa. 

" riTolaru. 

** niralis. 
Sednm Rhodiola. 
CjiDoptenis alpinos. 
Solidago hnmilis, yar. nana. 
ActineUa grandiflora. 
Artemisia borealis. 

*• Nonregica. 
Senecio Fremonti. 
" amplectens. 
" petnens. 
Campannla nniflora. 

Vacciniam MjrrtillaB, Tar. microphjl* 

Primula Parryi. 

** angostifotia. 
Androsaoe Chamejasme. 
Gentiana barbeUata. 
" pixMtrata. 
Phlox DoQglasii. 
Polemoniom confertam. 

" hamile, Tar. pulcbellam. 
Merteoaia alpina. 
Myosotis sylTatica, rar. alpettria. 
Chionophila JametiL 
Synthyris alpina. 
Veronica alpina. 

Caatilleia pallida, var. occidentalit. 
Oxyria digyna. 

Polygonum Bistorta, yar. yiyipamm. 
Betttla glanduloia. 
Salix reticulata. 
Lloydia terotina. 

Glaoiation of Mountains in New Engiand and New Yorlc. 

Bt Warren Uphak. 

Rnd April 17, 1889. 

Mountains have a special interest for the glacialist in their 
testimony of the direction of the currents of the ice-sheet and 
its maximnm thickness; and nowhere are mountains more 
instmctive in this respect than in New England and New 
York. If we include also northeastern Pennsylvania, we find 
here the only summits that stood above the surface of the ice- 
sheet on the northeastern part of this continent, excepting 
that in northern Labrador, adjoining Hudson Strait, moun- 
tains similarly rose above it. The top of Eatahdin, of Mt. 
Washington, and of the Adirondacks projected above the ice 
during ttie greater part of the epochs of glaciation, but, except- 
ing Katahdin, were wholly covered when the ice attained 
its greatest depth. That this is true of Mt. Washington is 
shown by rare transported bowlders found by Professor C. H. 


Hitchcock on this highest summit of the White Monntains^ 
6,293 feet above the sea. 

In the Ice Age, the latest completed period of geologic his- 
tory, the climate of the northern half of North America be- 
came very cold, with so much precipitation of snow that the 
summer's heat was not sufficient to melt it The depth of the 
snow therefore slowly increased from year to year, until its 
lower portion became changed to ice by the pressure of its 
own weight, as glaciers are formed in the Alps, and as an ice- 
sheet now covers the interior of Greenland and another sur- 
rounds the South Pole. In our country the southern limit 
of the ice-sheet in its maximum extent reached from Nan- 
tucket, Martha's Vineyard, and Block Island westward along 
the terminal moraine, which is commonly called the backbone 
of Long Island, across northern New Jersey and Pennsyl- 
vania, southern Ohio, Indiana and Illinois, central Missouri, 
and northeastern Kansas ; thence it extended northwestward 
through Nebraska and Dakota ; and from the vicinity of Bis- 
marck trended again westward through northern Montana, 
Idaho, and Washington. 

North of this boundary the land was deeply covered by ice, 
as is known by its transported bowlders and drift, and by its 
striae, which are furrows and scratches engraved on the bed- 
rock over which the ice moved, as fragments of stone frozen 
in the bottom of alpine glaciers wear the underlying rock- 
surfaces. Toward the northeast from Nantucket and Gape 
God this ice-sheet probably terminated on the remarkable sub- 
marine plateaus known as the Fishing Banks; and on the 
west it pushed into the edge of the Pacific, across the islands 
that border the coast of British Golumbia and Alaska. About 
a quarter part of tlie United States, the entire Dominion of 
Ganada, the area of Hudson Bay, and probably much of 
Alaska and of the large islands in the Arctic Sea between the 
mouth of the Mackenzie and Baffin Bay, were wrapped in a 
sheet of ice, which was replenished by the yearly snow-fall and 
was caused, by the pressure of the vast weight of its central 
portion, to flow slowly outward on all sides. Its greatest 
depth, estimated by Professor Dana to have been about two 
miles, was on the highlands between the St. Lawrence and 


Hudson Bay, as is indicated by the general divergence of 
strisB and dispersal of drift from that region ; hut a nearly 
equal depth of ice seems to have extended thence westward to 
Lake Superior and over the area of James Bay and the south- 
em part of Hudson Bay to the vicinity of Lake Winnipeg and 
Reindeer Lake. 

Similarly, northwestern Europe was covered by an ice-sheet 
which moved radially outward in all directions from the 
mountains of Scandinavia, extending southeast and south over 
about half of Russia and Germany, and southwest across the 
area of the North Sea to Britain, where the mountains of 
Scotland, Wales, and Ireland were smaller independent centres 
of glacial outflow. Farther to the south, a large area in the 
Pyrenees and a still larger district in the Alps and adjoining 
country were covered by ice. In North America, likewise, the 
Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada bore glaciers of great 
extent along a distance of several hundred miles south of the 
continental ice-sheet ; but no such local glaciation is known 
along the Appalachian mountain belt south of the general 
boundary of the drift. 

Alpine glaciers are wholly inadequate to give a mental 
picture of the North American and European ice-sheets, 
though they suggested to Louis Agassiz fifty years ago the 
grand generalization that the drift of these northern countries 
was formed by land-ice covering continental areas, as the 
ancient glacier of the Rhone poured westward from the Fins- 
teraarhom, the Jungfrau, Monte Rosa, and Mont Blanc, 
across the great valley of Switzerland where now are the 
lakes of Geneva and Neuchatel, to the Jura range on which 
its immense bowlders were stranded. Even that former exten- 
sion of ice from the Alps was small in comparison with the 
ice-sheet of northwestern Europe, which stretched 2,000 miles 
from west to east, with a maximum width of 1,500 miles; 
and the North American ice-sheet had far greater extent, 
reaching 4,000 miles from Newfoundland and Labrador to the 
Pacific Ocean and Alaska, and from the Ohio, Missouri, and 
Columbia rivers to the Arctic Ocean. The only similar tracts 
of ice now existing upon the globe are the Antarctic ice-sheet 
and that which occupies the interior of Greenland. 


Around the South Pole an ice-sheet extends outward on all 
sides, to an average distance of 1,000 miles or more from the 
Pole. It everywhere terminates in the sea, and, because it is 
lifted up by the ocean and broken into bergs, its margin has 
the form of a vertical wall, along which Sir J. C. Boss sailed 
four hundred and fifty miles, finding only one point sufl5ciently 
low to allow the upper surface of the ice to be seen from the 
masthead. There it was a plain of snowy whiteness, reach- 
ing as far as the eye could see. 

In Nordenskiold's journey on the ice-sheet of Greenland, to 
the east from Disco Bay, he found that its surface rose to a 
height of about 2,500 feet in a distance of fifty miles ; to 5,200 
feet, or nearly one mile, in a hundred and sixty miles ; and to 
6,465 feet in three hundred miles. The average ascent of the 
ice surface in the first fifty miles, including the more rapid 
rise near the margin, is about fifty feet per mile, or slightly 
more than half of one degree ; in the next hundred and ten 
miles it is about twenty-five feet per mile ; and in the remain- 
ing hundred and forty miles, lying near the centre of Green- 
land, the ascent is only nine feet per mile. 

On the Antarctic continent (if it be not a group of islands 
united by the ice-sheet) the volcanoes Terror and Erebus, 
seen in eruption by Ross, rise to heights of about 10,000 
and 12,000 feet. Greenland has no mountains of similar 
height, and after ascending upon the border of the ice-sheet, 
which is reached at the head of the fiords not far back from 
the coast, occasional ridges and hill-tops are found rising out 
of the ice during the first day's journey upon it, beyond which 
there is a slightly undulating expanse of ice and snow, ap- 
pearing in a broad view as level and illimitable as the ocean, 
and bounded only by the encircling smooth horizon. The sur- 
face of this ice-sheet in its central part has a similar altitude 
with the highest mountain summits of New England and New 
York, and it overtops the most elevated points of the land on 
which it lies. 

Such too was the ice-sheet of the northern United States 
and Canada, whose border covered the northeast part of the 
Appalachian mountain system, from northern Pennsylvania 
to where the headland of Gasp^ projects into the Gulf of 


St. Lawrence. Within this area five prominent mountain 
masses deserve special consideration in respect to their glaci* 
ation; namelj, Katahdin, the White Mountains, the Green 
Mountain range, the Adirondack group, and the Gatskiils. 
We may profitably note in successive order the observations 
which have been gathered concerning the striation and drift 
of these mountains, that we may learn which of them stood 
above the ice as landmarks when it attained its greatest depth, 
and in what direction the glacial current passed over the sides 
of these and over even the tops of the others. All the lower 
mountains and hills of the New England States and New 
York, and of Ontario, Quebec, and the eastern provinces, were 
enveloped by ice, and bear its typical marks of striation and 
deposits of drift from base to summit. 

The descriptions of Mt. Katahdin, or Ktaadn, by Jack- 
son, Hitchcock, Packard, and Hamlin, give us very ample and 
clear knowledge of its glaciation. According to President M. 
G. Femald's determinations, this highest mountain of Maine 
rises 5,215 feet above the sea, and the latitude of its summit is 
45° 53' 40". Its distance north-northwest from the boundary 
of the ice-sheet, which lay probably outside the Gulf of Maine, 
was about two hundred and fifty miles. 

Dr. G. T. Jackson's ascent of Katahdin, in the prosecution 
of his labors as State Geologist, was accomplished Sept. 23, 
1837, under great difficulties from deficiency of provisions ; 
and the top was reached in a furious northeast snow-storm, 
which made it impossible to obtain detailed observations. He 
determined the elevation approximately by barometer, and 
noted important topographic features, the limit of the forest, 
a few of the plants seen at greater heights, and that the moun- 
tain is composed entirely of granite. At that time the drift 
was little understood, though beginning to attract the atten- 
tion of geologists; and Dr. Jackson expressed the opinion 
that it had passed over this summit.^ 

Twenty-four years later, in August, 1861, Professor 0. H. 
Hitchcock, State Geologist, ascended Katahdin, accompanied 
by G. L. Goodale, as botanist, and A. S. Packard, Jr., as ento- 

1 Second Annual Report on the Geology of the PubUc Lands of Maine and 
Massachnsetts, Angnsta, 1888. 


mologist. The party passed along the very narrow, sharp ridge, 
running westward with precipitous descent on each side, that 
joins the peak of Pamela with the East and West peaks, the 
latter of which is the highest point of the mountain. ^^ We 
never imagined," writes Professor Hitchcock, " that in our 
New England mountains localities could be found so nearly 
resembling the peaks and ridges of the Andes. Instantly the 
idea occurred to us that such a narrow ridge could never have 
been shaped by drift action. Its sides are covered with those 
loose angular blocks which frost has removed from the ledges 
but drift has never transported, precisely like the fragments 
upon the top of Mt. Washington above the drift region. 
We searched in vain over all the top of Mt. Eatahdin for 
any signs of drift action. There are no strise upon the ledges, 
no smoothing or rounding of the rocks, and no transported 
bowlders anywhere upon the summit. This view is strength- 
ened by the fact that there are no transported rocks in the 
Basin, into which an innumerable quantity of bowlders would 
have been hurled if the drift agency had ever crossed the 

** Only one feature appeared favorable to the view that the 
drift passed over the top. The whole of the northwest side of 
the summit appears like one great stoss side, while the lee 
side is very ragged, just as would be the case if the ice went 
over the top. But in answer to this it may be said, this appar- 
ent stoss side is only the natural shape of the mountain, and its 
position accidental. This view is partially confirmed by the 
fact that for a great distance from the summit on the north- 
west slope no ledges can be seen, only the fragments which 
have been loosened by frost. Generally, when ledges have 
been struck by drift, even if the scratches are obliterated, the 
rocks are not so thoroughly split up by frost but that the 
rounded ledges remain very slightly affected. This is cer- 
tainly the case upon Mt. Washington. The drift force seems 
often to have been, strong enough to remove all the loose and 
prominent parts of ledges, leaving the solid foundations so 
firmly rooted that all atmospheric agencies have not yet had 
time enough to break them up. We are fully satisfied that a 
large part of the Katahdin summits have never been swept 


over by drift, even if we must believe that the highest por- 
tion has been struck." ^ 

Professor A. S. Packard, Jr., compares the aspect of the top 
of Katahdin, " strewn thickly with huge angular blocks broken 
off by frosts from the subjacent strata," with Mt. Washing- 
ton and adjacent peaks of the same range, and with the moun- 
tains of gneiss in northern Labrador near Gape Chudleigh, 
which latter in their lower part are rounded and moulded by 
ice, but above present more angular and irregular outlines, 
and are profusely covered with loose blocks detached by frost.^ 
The elevation of the highest part of the coast range of Labra- 
dor, seventy miles south of Cape Chudleigh, is estimated by 
Dr. Robert Bell to be about 6,000 feet above the sea ; and he 
states that throughout the drift period its top ^* stood above 
tlie ice and was not glaciated." ^ 

Photographs of the upper portion of Katahdin, kindly sent 
me by Mr. George H. Witherle, of Castine, Maine, show well 
its wonderful profusion of frost-riven rock fragments, quite 
unlike all the other mountains of New England, excepting 
the higher part of the range that culminates in Mt. Washing- 
ton, whose top will be remembered by all who have visited it 
as having this character. So remarkable is this feature that 
the ledges fractured by frost at the summit of Mt. Wash- 
ington are illustrated in the heliotype frontispiece of Vol. 
L of the " Geology of New Hampshire." The same condition 
is found by Dr. George M. Dawson on the upper part of the 
Three Buttes, or Sweet Grass hills, in northern Montana, 
which rise 6,200 to 6,483 feet above the sea. These hills 
stood more than 1,500 feet above the surface of the ice-sheet ; 
for they bear bowlders of the glacial drift in abundance up to 
4,600 feet, but no fragments of foreign origin could be found 
more than sixty feet above that height.^ Along the range of 
the Rocky Mountains, also, in Colorado, as I am informed by 

^ Sixth Annual Beport of the SecretHiy of the Mame Board of Agricoltore, 

> Memoirs of the Boston Society of Natural History, 1866, foI. L 

* Geological and Natural History Surrey of Canada: Beport of P rogr cM for 
1882, 1888, 1884; and Annual Report, 1885, vol. L 

« Ibid. : Report of Progress for 1882, 1888, 1884. 


Professor C. R Fay, frost-riven fragments generally cover the 
bed-rock on all slopes that are not too steep to allow them to 
accumulate ; and this is finely exhibited in an extensive series 
of photographs made by Mr. F. H. Ghapin, in his mountain- 
eering in that region. 

New England presents three types of mountains in respect 
to glaciation, of which the least frequent is exemplified in this 
district only by Mts. Eatahdin and Washington, with neigh- 
boring peaks of the Presidential range, where the surface has 
not been swept by the current of the ice-sheet, or, if it was 
at one time wholly ice-covered, as is demonstrated for Mt. 
Wasliington, the time of the glacial envelopment was very 
brief, not sufficing for the removal of the loose masses which 
have been fractured by frost from the underlying rock. The 
second and most common type is represented by Monadnock, 
where the moving ice-sheet has carried away all the rock-frag- 
ments which before the Ice Age doubtless presented generally 
on all our mountain tops the same appearance as the present 
summits of Katahdin and Washington ; instead of which, the 
surface is now left bare, and rounded in smooth low hum- 
mocks of rock on the stoss side, — that is, in New England the 
north and noi*thwest side exposed to the glacial current, — 
while on the lee side the slopes are more precipitous and jag- 
ged, not being deeply worn by the ice, though usually denuded 
of their preglacial frost-riven blocks. A third and infrequent 
type is represented by the northwest slope of Mt. Garrigain, 
where deposits of glacial drift, analogous with the till of lower 
areas, cover the bed-rock. 

Many bowlders and small fragments of Oriskany sandstone, 
containing characteristic fossils, were found by Hitchcock, 
Packard, and De Laski,^ in the drift on the southern slope of 
Katahdin up to a height of about 4,000 feet. They were 
derived from ledges that occur on Lakes Webster and Telos, 
about twelve miles distant toward the northwest. The cur- 
rent of the ice-sheet is thus shown to have moved from north- 
west to southeast ; and in the transportation of these bowlders 
through so short a distance they were carried upward about 

1 American Journal of Science, III., 1872, vol. ill. pp. 27-81. 


3,000 feet, passing around the west side of the mountain to 
the slope where they were found. 

Special search for these fossiliferous bowlders is reported 
by Professor G. E. Hamlin, in his admirable description of 
the physical geography and geology of this mountain.^ He 
wrote as follows : " Outside of the slides, I have never found 
drift upon the flanks of the mountain ; but it reappears higher 
up, in very small amount on the Table-Land, but principally 
upon the northern summits, sparsely strewn among the broken 
granite that covers them. Neither on slides nor summits is 
the drift ever found in large bowlders, but always as fragments' 
of moderate size. On the Southwest Slide a few masses were 
seen as heavy as a hundred pounds each, but in general — al- 
ways upon the East Slide — the pieces ran from a few ounces 
up to twenty pounds in weight. They were chiefly fragments 
of slates and sandstones, identical with the strata of the coun- 
try north and west, mingled with pieces of metamorphic and 
trappean rocks. . . . Among the scanty drift upon the upper 
third of the Southwest Slide, I have never seen a fossil-bearing 
stone. And upon those parts of the summits where drift was 
found, only once was a fossil met with, — a solitary brachiopod 
impression on a ten-pound piece of sandstone, picked up on 
the slope northward from West Peak to the Saddle, about 600 
feet below the top of the peak, or at an elevation of about 4,615 
feet above the sea. This is by far the highest point at which 
fossiliferous rocks have yet been found upon Etaadn." 

From these observations it is known that the northern sum- 
mits of this mountain were ice-covered, the upper limit of the 
drift being apparently about 4,700 feet above Uie sea ; but the 
higher West and East peaks, the sharp serrated ridge, the 
Chimney, and Pamela, rising above that height, appear to be 
destitute of drift, and probably formed an island projecting 
out of the continental mer de glctce during the epoch of maxi- 
mum glaciation. If we compare the slope of the surface of 
the ice-sheet with the present sea-level, disregarding the oscil- 
lations of the earth's crust which carried the land to a great 
elevation, as I believe, before the formation of the ice-sheet, 

1 BoUetin of the Muaeam of Comp«ratire Zoology at Hairard College, 1881, 
▼oL TiL 


depressed it while thus loaded, and partially uplifted it again 
after the ice was melted away, the aven^ ascent from the 
glacial border in the Atlantic to Katahdin was about nineteen 
feet per mile. But if the glacial border was indented within 
the Gulf of Maine, the slope would be greater, perhaps twenty- 
five feet or more per mile. The greatest thickness attained by 
the ice upon the country surrounding the base of Katahdin 
was about 4,000 feet, or four fifths of a mile. In other parts 
of Maine the directions of the glacial current, as shown by 
striaa and transported bowlders, were prevailingly S. S. E., 
with local deflections which bear rarely to the west of south, 
and more frequently to the southeast or almost due east. Ex- 
amples of the courses of striae, from a long list reported by 
C. H. Hitchcock,^ are in Fryeburg and Alfred, S. 32° E. ; in 
Cornish and Limerick, S. 22"" E. ; in Portland, at two local- 
ities, S. 23^ E., and S. 3'' E. ; and in Cape Elizabeth township, 
S. 8° W., and S. 12° and 22° E. On Mt. Abraham he notes 
striation S. 59° E., and on the top of Mt. Pleasant, in Denmark, 
S. 41° W., but on the west side of Mt. Pleasant, near its top, 
S. 81° to 33° E. 

The most noteworthy observations on the glaciation of the 
White Mountains are those of Dr. Edward Hitchcock in 1841, 
marking the upper limit of the usual drift deposits, striae, and 
ice-worn ledges about 1,000 feet below the top of Mt. Wash- 
ington ; and of his son. Professor Charles H. Hitchcock, who in 
1875 found glacially transported bowlders on the very summit 
of this mountain.^ The former wrote of Mt. Washington, 
and the other peaks of this range : ^^ All the peaks which I 
ascended are made up of broken fragments of this slate, which 
have been entirely removed from their original position by 
frost, and form sometimes a coating of loose angular blocks 
several feet thick. This is particularly the case upon the 
summit of Mt. Washington, and downward about 1,000 feet ; 
but in all the valleys between these peaks more or less of the 
rocks appear in place, and here I discovered many examples 
of embossed rocks. They are, as we might expect, much less 

^ Geology of New Hampshire, 1878, toI. Hi. These and other bearings 
noted in this paper are referred to the astronomic meridian. 
* Ibid. ; Apfalaciiia, yoL i. 


distinct than in many other places less exposed to decompos- 
ing agencies, and I should probably have passed by them 
without recognition, had I not previously examined many 
other more distinct examples. So far as Mt. Clinton has 
been uncovered, it seems one huge boss more or less rounded. 
As we begin to ascend Mt. Pleasant, the embossed rocks are 
quite distinct; and here, too, are bowlders most evidently 
transported. Here, too, I discovered striae running N. 80** W., 
S. 80° E., corresponding essentially with the general course of 
striae on the mountains of New Hampshire and Massachusetts. 
. . . Near the south foot of Mt. Franklin is another example 
of the embossed rocks with bowlders. . . . Finally, at the 
south foot of Mt Washington, near a small pond called Lake 
of the Clouds, is a third example of the roehes matUannSes. It 
is bss distinct than at the other localities, as the rock here is 
more broken up by frosts ; still it is impossible for a practised 
eye not to recognize them. And it ought to be stated that 
here it is the northwest exposure of the rocks that has been 
most powerfully acted upon, proving conclusively that the 
force was exerted from that direction." 

Very rare bowlders and small fragments of gneiss foreign 
to Mt. Washington, which in its upper part is andalusite mica 
schist and gneiss, occur above the limit of the ordinary drift 
action, as similar foreign rock-fragments are found very scan- 
tily on the high portion of Katahdin to within 600 or 500 feet 
below its highest point. But on Mt. Washington the drift 
fragments are scattered thus scantily quite to its summit, near 
which Professor C. H. Hitchcock has obtained two bowlders, 
each weighing about ninety pounds. One of these is in the 
museum of Dartmouth College, and the other in that of the 
Boston Society of Natural History. The account of this dis- 
covery, which proves that the ice-sheet at one time overtopped 
even this highest peak of the northern Appalachians, is told 
by Professor Hitchcock, as follows : — 

" The first suggestion of this novel proposition came to me 
the last day of July, 1875, from an examination of the some- 
what rounded stones of small size lying along the carriage- 
road upon the northeast side of the mountain, about two 
hundred and fifty feet below the summit. I stumbled upon 


two bowlders of granitic gneiss foreign to the mountain, — one 
nearly ten, and the other six inches long. This raised the al- 
titude at which transported materials existed to aboTC 6,000 
feet Observation showed that these bowlders came inva* 
riably from the earth underlying the conspicuous angular 
debris common all over the peak above the line of trees. In 
repairing the road, the workmen usually dug beneath the sur- 
face blocks before obtaining a material suitable for their pur- 
poses, and there always seemed to be a plenty of it. ... I 
examined the excavation made for the road between the house 
and stables, and obtained several small bowlders, four or five 
inches long, corresponding in mineral structure with the ledges 
in Randolph and Jefferson, twelve or fifteen miles away. The 
general color of the rock is so like that of the mountfdn that 
one would not perceive the difference between them without 
close inspection. The mica is arranged differently in it ; the 
white parts are more abundant, though in fine grains, and the 
rock is evidently the same with the upper member of what I 
call the ^ Bethlehem gneiss ' in the New Hampshire reports. 
The highest point at which stones of foreign origin were ob- 
tainable may be twenty or twenty-five feet below the very pin- 
nacle of the mountain. Hence it is fair to conclude that every 
part has been covered by the glacial ice. . • • Just beyond the 
signal-station dwelling I found a flat ledge sloping a little 
northwesterly, but precipitous on the southeast. Atmospheric 
agencies have marred tlie surface so much that no stri® are 
visible, even if they ever existed. I had proposed to scrutinize 
every harder projection of quartz with a lens, as this course 
sometimes reveals striation where other inspection is unavail- 
ing. Were this ledge situated near the Lake of the Clouds, 
where embossment is common, I should point it out unhesitat- 
ingly as an example of ice-sculpture, though much degraded by 
weathering. The shape agrees with that of thousands of gla- 
ciated ledges in other parts of the State. Other ledges on the 
mountain farther north resemble this one. Inasmuch as the 
transportation of materials is clearly proved by the presence 
of the Jefferson rock upon the summit a few rods away, it will 
not be unreasonable to believe that this apparent embossment 
is real. The altitude of the ledge is the same with that of the 


site of the travelled stones. The disposition of the large 
blocks upon the sonunit is noteworthy. Several acres of sur- 
face are covered hj them far away from visible ledges. As 
you approach a ledge, it is easy to see what fragments have 
been separated by frost action, as the projections match the 
indentations. . . ." 

Before this discovery, while it was believed that Mt. Wash- 
ington and its neighbors rose above the ice«heet at its time of 
greatest thickness, Professor Dana had computed, from the 
slope of the ice-surface thus known, and from the courses of 
striation and transportation of bowlders in Canada, that the 
elevation of the surface of the ice-sheet over the northern 
border of New England was about 8,000 feet, and over the 
Canadian watershed between the St. Lawrence and Hudson 
Bay 18,000 feet, giving to the ice an average thickness of about 
5,000 feet in the region of the White Mountains, 6,500 feet on 
the international boundary, and not less than 12,000 feet on 
the Laurentian highlands.^ It still appears to be true that 
the upper limit of the ice-sheet was about 1,000 feet below the 
summit of Mt. Washington during the greater part of the Ice 
Age, and that Professor Dana's estimates of the thickness of 
the ice farther north are very probabla There seem to be good 
reasons for believing that the land at length sank beneath this 
heavy burden ; and to that time I would refer the complete 
glacial envelopment of Mt. Washington, as well as the trans- 
portation of the highest, very scanty drift on Eatahdin. This 
depression of the earth's crust led to changes of climate, from 
the rigorous conditions causing glaciation to mild tempera- 
tures by which the ice was finally melted ; but at first the 
subsidence was perhaps attended by an increase in the thick- 
ness of the ice whose surface may have been maintained by 
the snow-fall during a short time, geologically speaking, at its 
former altitude, while the area of the White Mountains sank 
the 1,000 feet which would envelope the top of Mt. Washing- 
ton in the ice-sheet. The mountain was not thus covered so 
long that the glacial current could sweep away much of the 
abundant frost-riven debris, nor conspicuously emboss any 

1 American Joomal of Science, m, March, 1878, roL t. pp. 196-211. 


projecting knobs of rock, nor bring many bowlders and frag- 
ments of foreign drift. In the two hundred and twenty miles 
from the terminal moraine of Long Island, Martha's Vineyard, 
and Nantucket, north to Mt. Washington, the slope of the ice- 
surface therefore averaged in its maximum about thirty feet 
per mile, compared with the present sea-level and height of 
the mountain, but was only about twenty-five feet per mile 
through the greater part of the glacial period. It is presum- 
able, however, that in a process of subsidence of the land, 
only the thickness of the ice-sheet, and not the slope of its 
surface, was increased when the mountain became wholly 

The bowlders found on Mt. Washington were transported 
by a glacial current moving from northwest to southeast, and 
in the distance of probably fifteen miles from their parent 
ledges to the top of the mountain they were carried upward 
about 5,000 feet. Some of the courses of stris reported by 
Professor Hitchcock on other mountains in New Hampshire 
are as follows : — 

Mt. Adams, west side, at height of 5,500 feet . . . S. 58^ £. 

Near the gap between Adams and Jefferson . . . . S. 33^ £. 

Lake of the Clouds, intersecting . . . S. 22^ £. and S. 62^ £. 

Between Mts. Franklin and Pleasant, and the same 
between Mts. Pleasant and Clinton S. 80^ £. 

Near the top of Mt. Clinton, north side . . . S. 47° to 52^ £. 

Mt. Clinton, south peak S. 50"" £. 

Mt. Webster 8. 80° and 37° E. 

Mt. Willey, top S.42°E. 

Mt. Field, top S. 50°E. 

Mt. Field, side towards Mt WiUard . . . . . . S. 37°£. 

Mt, Willard, top S.23°E. 

Mt. Pequawket (Kearsarge North), two thirds of 
the way from top to saddle between it and 
Bartlett Mountain, at height of 2,500 feet . . . S. 42^ £. 

Mt. Baldface, top S.28°to28°£. 

Chocoma, side S.42°E. 

Mt. Whittier, West Ossipee, top S.47°E. 

Bed Hill, near summit S. 62° £. 

Mt. Prospect, Holdemess, summit S. 37° £. 

Mt. Gunstock, Gilford, top 8. 62° E. 

Teneriffe Mountain, Milton, top 8. 42° £. 

Fawtuckaway, north side 8. 72° £. 


Dixville MountaiD, top S.M'^E. 

Mt Agassiz, Bethlehem, top S. 8° W. i 

ML Lafayette, aboTe the Eagle Lakes, also . . . . S. 8° W. I 

Moosilauke, top S. 22° E. 

Moosilaoke, twenty rods east of summit . . . S. 27° to 32^ E. 

Gardner's Mountain, top &12°E. 

Mt Cuba, top S.28°E. 

Kearsarge Mountain, Warner, top 8. 4^ to 51° £. 

Ragged Mountain, top S. 23° E. 

Monadnock, top S. 21°E. 

Deflected stris are remarkablj well shown on the sides of 
Monadnock, where the divided glacial current passed around 
and over it. 

An inspection of this list, and of the far more numerous 
obserrations of strias on the lower lands, published in the 
third volume of the " Geology of New Hampshire," shows that 
the prevailing direction of the ice movement was to the S. R 
and S. S. E., bearing more toward the south in the southern 
and southwestern portions of the State and in the Connecti- 
cut valley. 

Supplementing the observations of the Geological Survey of 
Vermont, Mr. Edward Hungerford published in 1868 a valu- 
able paper on the glaciation of the Green Mountains,^ from 
which most of the following notes are derived, their order 
being from north to south. Striae on the summit of Jay 
Peak, 4,018 feet above the sea, bear S. 40'' E. Very large 
transported bowlders occur on the top of Mt. Mansfield, with 
striae bearing S. 23^ to 28^ E. This mountain, the highest in 
the State, attains the elevation of 4,430 feet. Masses of 
quartz contained in the mica schist of the top of Camel's 
Hump, 4,088 feet in height, show fine lines of striation, noted 
in three places, S. 10^ W., the same with variation to due 
a, and S. SS"" E. On the northeast side, about 700 feet below 
the summit, in the path to Bidley*s Station, strias bear S. E. 
and S. S. E. It is also to be remarked that the rounded north- 
west side of Camel's Hump, and its precipitous cliff on the 
south and southeast, afford evidence cd glacial erosion. EiU 
lington Peak, 4,221 feet high, has similar rounded outlines, 
forming a ^^ well-defined northern stoss side ; " and Mr. Hun- 

1 American Jomnal of Science, IL, roL zlr. 



gerford observed numerous small bowlders of foreign rock 
within twenty feet of the highest point. He concludes that 
all these summits, the highest in Vermont, were enveloped by 
the ice-sheet. 

The glacial current crossed the Green Mountain range from 
northwest to southeast and south. It transported bowlders 
of the Burlington red sandstone across the range near GameFs 
Hump, where they were carried upward 3,000 feet above their 
source, and deposited them in the Quechee valley, near the 
Connecticut River, and in Hanover, N. H., about sixty miles 
from their starting-point. 

Little is known of the glaciation of the Adirondacks ; hence 
there is a rich harvest sometime to be reaped in that re- 
gion. The group, consisting of Archsan granites, gneiss, and 
schists, culminates in Mt. Marcy, or Tahawus (the ^' Cleaver 
of the Clouds " ), 5,344 feet above the sea ; and Mt. Mclntyre, 
at 5,118 feet, is next in elevation. Mr. Yerplanck Golvin, in 
charge of the Adirondack Survey, states that the summit of 
Marcy is contrasted with the otlier high peaks in its being 
destitute of glacial drift; but its embossed and rounded 
ledges, as he observes, indicate glacial erosion there, although 
its 8tri» have been obliterated by weathering.^ Professor 
Fay also informs me that the top of this mountain fmd of 
several other prominent peaks visited by* him in the Adiron- 
dacks are all similar in aspect to Monadnock, none belong- 
ing to the type of Eatahdin and Washington. The contoured 
map of Mt. Marcy, drafted by Mr. Colvin, shows that it is 
much steeper on the east and south than on the north and 
west, as would be its form under glaciation from the north- 
west, like the mountains of New Hampshii'e and Vermont. 

This summit lies about one hundred and twenty-five miles 
west, and a few miles south, of Mt. Washington ; and its dis- 
tance north from the terminal moraine on Long and Staten 
islands is about two hundred and thirty-five miles. The 
average slope of the surface of the ice-sheet from its termi- 
nation to the Adirondack Mountains was, therefore, not less 
than twenty-three feet per mile; and from the Catskills, 

1 Seventh Annual Report of the Topogmphical Sarvej of the Adirondnck 
Region, to the Tear 1879. 


where the upper limit of glaciation is known, it was not less 
than seventeen feet per mile. How much it may have ex- 
ceeded these figures cannot be determined, but what we know 
of Katahdin and Washington shows that the peak of Marcy 
doubtless lacked only a little of rising above the ice-sheet at 
its time of maximum thickness. In this connection it is to 
be remarked that the change from a northward ascent of 
about thirty feet per mile south of the Catskills, to an average 
of seventeen feet per mile, or slightly more, for the next 
hundred and thirty miles to the Adirondacks agrees well with 
the slopes of the Greenland ice-sheet observed by Norden- 
skiold, and with the northward ascent of the ice surfaoe 
assumed by Dana in the computation before mentioned; 
namely, an average of ten feet per mile for the distance from 
the international boundary to the watershed north of the 
St. Lawrence. 

Dr. R. P. Stevens states that along the valley of Lake 
Champlain the general direction of the stri» is in parallelism 
with the valley, from north to south, but with local deflec- 
tions to the amount of 20°. On the higher hills and moun- 
tains near the west side of this lake, including some of the 
eastern Adirondacks, he finds the striation to be more com- 
monly from northwest to southeast, which is also its direction 
in the Ottawa basin farther north. He also notes stri® bear- 
ing S. R on Mt. Anthony, in Saratoga county.^ 

In New Jersey Professor John C. Smock's observations 
show that the ice-sheet covered the highest point of the State, 
which lies near its most northern angle, at an elevation of 
1,804 feet. Its distance north from the terminal moraine is 
about thirty--one miles. Tlie New York Highlands and the 
Shunemunk and Shawangunk mountains are also glaciated 
to their crests. But in the Gatskill Mountains Professor 
Smock finds that tiiie glacial drift and strisd extend upward 
only to an elevation approximately 8,000 feet above the sea.^ 
Their limit is thus a thousand feet below the highest sum- 
mits; Slide Mountain, the culminating point of this group, 
having, according to Professor Ouyot's determination, an 

1 American Joanial of Science, III., 1878^ vol vi 
« Ibid., 1883, Tol. xxv. 


altitude of 4^05 feet. The distance from Slide Mountain 
south to the terminal moraine on Staten Island at the sea 
level is a hundred and five miles. The ice-sheet in this dis- 
tance had an average slope of nearly thirty feet per mile, or 
slightly less than a third of a degree ; and large areas of the 
Gatskills rose above its surface at its time of maximum thick- 
ness and extent. 

Professor Smock writes : " The amount of erosion in the 
Catskills has been very great, since the strata [sandstones 
and shales] are nearly everywhere horizontal, or inclined 
but a few degrees from the horizon. The main valleys appear 
to have been eroded prior to the glacial epoch, and the exist- 
ing features were largely determined by the long-continued 
wear of preglacial waters; so that the ice-sheet did little 
beyond filling partly some of the valleys and abrading the 
more prominent of the lower ridges. The valleys are essen- 
tially of erosive origin, obscured, however, now by glacial 
debris in many places. In some of them, as that of the 
Batavia Kill in Windham, the Stony Glove and Woodland 
Valley, there are very plainly marked moraines, indicating 
the existence and retreat of local glaciers. The lai^r val- 
leys of the Schohai*ie Kill, the east branch of the Delaware, 
and the Esopus Creek, also have their moraines, though not 
so well defined. Subsequent to the retreat of the great mass 
of the continental glacier, these valleys were no doubt occu- 
pied by detached glaciers. The torrents flowing from them 
evidently modified much of the older drift, and deposited it in 
a stratified form in these valley bottoms as we now see it 
In this way the moraines were partly destroyed. Ascending 
these valleys to their head, the upper limits of the thick drift 
masses are reached, beyond which, on the steeper mountain 
slope, the explorer finds the evidences of glaciation in roche% 
moutonnSes and scattered bowlders only." 

The general direction of the glacial current in the region of 
the Catskills, as shown by strise, was southwestward, being 
directed normally toward the glacial boundary, which passes 
west-northwesterly from Staten Island across northern New 
Jeraey and northeastern Pennsylvania to Little Valley near 
Salamanca, New York. 


With the slopes of the North American ice^eet ascer- 
tained in Maine, New Hampshire, and New York, we may 
instmctirelj compare that ol the ice-sheet which moved west- 
ward from northern Scotland across the Minch and the 
Hebrides, found bj Professor James Creikie to hare had a 
descent of twenty-five feet per mile ; ^^ but slight as that 
incline was," he remarks, ^^ it was probably twice as great 
as the slope of the mer de glaee that filled up the German 

In Essex county, Massachusetts, forming the northeast cor- 
ner of this State, the courses of glacial stri® and transporta- 
tion of bowlders range from S. 30^ £. to S. SO"* K ; elsewhere 
in eastern Massachusetts they are generally about S. 20° E. ; 
in the central portion of the State, about S. 10'' £. ; and on 
the mountains of Berkshire county, S. E. Dr. Edward Hitch- 
cock reported strias bearing nearly north to south on the top of 
Wachusett, and on Mts. Holyoke and Tom. In Rhode Island 
the striation is nearly due S. ; and in Connecticut generally 
S. S. E. Professors J. D. Dana and G. H. Hitchcock have 
called attention to a deflection of the strise along the Gonnec- 
ticut and Merrimack rivers to a course due south or a little 
west of south, conforming with the direction of these valleys. 

Exceptions to the general course of striation, diverging 
from it lO"" to 40"^, are also occasionally found in all parts 
of New England and New York. Many of these deflected 
Btri» doubtless belong to the time of recession of the ice- 
sheet, when the direction of flow close to the irregularly in- 
dented ice-border might deviate considerably from its former 
course. A large indentation of the ice-sheet seems then to 
have been formed within the Gulf of Maine, turning the latest 
glacial movements in the vicinity of Boston, as indicated by 
the trends of drumlins, toward the southeast and east-south- 
east. During the continued retreat of the ice this indenta- 
tion probably extended across York county in the southwest 
comer of Maine, coinciding approximately with the Saco and 
Ossipee rivers. Remarkably deflected striae are found on each 
side of this tract, on the northeast being turned southwesterly 
toward it in Gape Elizabeth, Standish, and Brownfield, Maine, 
and on the top of Mt. Pleasant ; while on the southwest they 


are turned easterly and even to the north of east toward it in 
the district east of Winnipiseogee and Squam lakes.^ 

After the departure of the general ice-sheet, local glaciers 
lingered, during probably only a short time, in deep yalleys 
and ravines of the mountains. Indeed, at the present time 
the summer snow-arch in Tuckerman's Ravine shows that a 
glacier would be formed there by slight changes in meteorolo- 
gic conditions favoring glaciation. .Notes of the stris and 
morainic deposits of these alpine glaciers, and of the rem- 
nants of the ice-sheet itself, with local deflections of its cur- 
I'ents during its dissolution within the mountain districts, are 
presented by Professor 0. H. Hitchcock in the reports on the 
geology of New Hampshire and Vermont, partly from his own 
observations and partly as observed and originally described by 
Agassiz, Yose, and Packard. The Androscoggin valley con- 
tained one of the most noteworthy local glaciers of the White 
Mountains, by which a remarkable terminal moraine, described 
by Professor George H. Stone, was formed across the valley 
on the boundary between New Hampshire and Maine. 

Looking beyond the limited region that has been the theme 
of this essay, we may well glance again, in closing, over the 
vast glaciated area of this continent. Nearly all the snow- 
fall forming the ice-sheet was brought by winds from the 
evaporating surface of the sea in temperate and tropical lati- 
tudes ; and Dana and McGee were first to reach the conclu- 
sion, since established by observations about Hudson Strait 
and Bay and on the head-waters of the Yukon, that the moist- 
ure of the winds was almost wholly Qondensed and precipi- 
tated upon the southern part of the ice-sheet, so that it had 
a greater depth there than far north. The courses of striae 
and the directions in which the drift has been transported, 
together with the recorded observations of the upper limits of 
the drift on mountains, hills, and plateaus, indicate that a line 
of maximum accumulation of ice extended from Newfound- 
land west-northwest to the southern part of Hudson Bay, and 
thence west-southwest to the east base of the Rocky Moun- 
tains between the Old Man and Waterton rivers, about twenty 
miles north of the north line of Montana. From this line or 

1 Geology of New Hampshire, vol. iii. pp. 122, 191 


belt of its greatest depth the surface of the ice descended both 
to the south and north, and the currents of its motion in these 
directions produced the glacial striae and drift. 

In the culmination of each of the two principal glacial 
epochs, the thickness of the ice-sheet over central Newfound- 
land and Labrador was probably 3,000 to 6,000 feet, increas- 
ing to 10,000 or 12,000 feet on the Laurentian highlands and 
in the basin of James Bay and over the south part of Hudson 
Bay, the bottom of which is about 400 feet below sea level. 
Thence westward the ice-sheet in the earlier and more severe 
epoch of glaciation probably decreased in thickness to 8,000 
or 7,000 feet in the region of Reindeer and Winnipeg lakes, 
and farther west it declined to a depth of only 2,000 to 1,600 
feet at the Cypress and Sweet Grass hills. Contemporaneous 
with this northeastern ice-sheet in its time of maximum ex- 
tent, vast glaciers issuing from the Rocky Mountains pushed 
against its western border, and another ice-sheet was formed 
on the Pacific side of the continent, covering nearly all of 
British Columbia. The greatest thickness of this western ice- 
sheet was apparently between latitudes 55° and 60°, and at a 
distance of two hundred to four hundred miles from the coast, 
attaining probably a depth of a mile or more above the land 
surface. Thence its motion was southward to the northern 
borders of Idaho and Washington, westward through the 
mountain ranges of the coast to the ocean, and northwest- 
ward, according to Dr. George M. Dawson, in the Lewes and 
Pelly valleys of the Upper Yukon basin. In the earlier gla- 
cial «poch, and perhaps also the later, the northeastern and 
western ice-fields and the glaciers of the Rocky Mountains 
became confluent, so that, when they covered their greatest 
area, one vast sheet of land-ice stretched across the continent 
from Newfoundland and Cape Cod to Vancouver Island. 

During the second and last great epoch of glaciation, when 
the terminal moraines of the northern United States, Mani- 
toba, and the Saskatchewan region were accumulated, the ex- 
tent of the ice-sheet in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New 
England appears to have equalled or exceeded that of the 
earlier ice-sheet; but within the Mississippi basin it fell short 
of the earlier limit by a belt whose maximum width is about 


two hundred and Berenty-five miles. The northwestward con- 
tinuation of the outer terminal moraines of this epoch, hejond 
the north line of Dakota, is believed to coincide approximately 
with the continuation of the Goteau du Missouri and with the 
Neutral and Beaver hills, crossing the South and North Sas- 
katchewan rivers respectively about three hundred and twenty- 
five miles and two hundred miles east of the Rocky Mountains. 
The thickness of this later ice-sheet upon the area of Hudson 
Bay and eastward was apparently as great as that of the 
earlier glaciation, but westward from Hudson Bay it dimin- 
ished in thickness more rapidly, probably having a depth of 
about 6,000 feet over Reindeer and Winnipeg lakes, and ter- 
minating east of the Hand, Cypress, and Sweet Grass hills, 
which had been islands surrounded by ice in the previous 
glacial epoch. As President Ghamberlin has suggested, the 
great lakes of British America, namely, Winnipeg, Reindeer, 
Athabasca, Great Slave, and Great Bear lakes, with the Mac- 
kenzie River, may be found to sustain the same relationship to 
the western and northwestern boundary and terminal moraines 
of the later ice-sheet formed on the northeast part of our con- 
tinent, that has been found along its southera border in the 
United States for the great Laurentian lakes and the Missouri 
and Ohio rivers. 

Dedicatory Visit to the IMadison-Sprlhg Hut. 

By Rosewrll B. Lawrence. 

BMd March 11. 1889. 

Thursday morning, February 21, the weather indications 
were favorable for the winter visit to the new Club refuge and 
an ascent of Mt. Adams, planned some months before by Mr. 
Laban M. Watson and myself. There was some wind, and 
the clouds still hung on the summits ; but both wind and 
clouds were lighter, and led us to hope that the best day 
of the whole week had come. Results proved that we were 
correct. The thermometer registered 10° above zero. Tlie 
traps were packed up, eight members of the household lend- 


ing helping hands, — one searching for straps, another plying 
a needle, others putting up provisions, etc. 

At 8.45 we were off across the field, and soon in the woods. 
I led the way, following my footsteps made in a stroll of the 
day before. We took it leisurely, having plenty of time. The 
morning in the woods was delightful, and the shoeing capi- 
tal. After nearly a mile and threoK^uarters we reached the 
junction of the King's Ravine and Durand Ridge paths, and 
from this point Mr. Watson took the lead, he being familiar 
with the zigzags of the path. The old footpath would in 
places have been as steep for snow-shoeing as the side of 
Carter Dome ; but the new zigzags made last summer for the 
horses to carry cement, timber, shingles, etc., rendered the 
shoeing excellent, though of course steep. It was seldom 
necessary to rely upon trees for assistance, or to leave the 
path for additional zigzags. Watson's camp had no snow in 
it, but near by were drifts six feet deep. In the scrub near 
the top of the ridge it was difficult to follow the path, the 
snow having drifted in so deep that my six-foot alpenstock 
would not touch bottom. 

Durand Ridge was in fine condition for climbing; many 
rocks were bare, masses of ice filled the intervening spaces, 
and the soft snow had all blown off into the scrub. Of course 
snow-shoes could not be worn ; but we carried them, thinking 
we might need them later. The wind was blowing, yet not 
very hard. Mt. Madison was clear, and occasionally the pole 
on Adams showed through the light cloud which seemed loath 
to leave the peak. King's Ravine was far more impressive 
than in summer, and the slides looked as if they might be 
terrific toboggan shoots. We were in high glee. Parts of the 
ridge we took on the run, stopping occasionally to pick out 
the Pond of Safety, the summits of the Pilot range, the 
Percy peaks. Goose Eye, Umbagog Lake, Mt. Aziscohos, and 
possibly Megantic. Yet it was somewhat hazy, especially in 
the west. From Durand Ridge to Madison Spring the scrub 
is about six feet high, but it was drifted full of snow, and we 
walked right over the tops of the trees. 

We reached the Madison-Spring Hut at 12.55, four hours 
and ten minutes from the Ravine House, including stops. 


The hut was all there, even to the rock on the chimney top. 
The ground was bare at both ends, and there was little snow 
except in front of the door. From the upper part of the door 
stretched a steep ice slope in which we cut about six steps, to 
quicken ingress and slacken egress during our abode within. 
It took twenty minutes to chop the ice from the door and 
obtain entrance. During this work we were protected from 
the wind, and the sun was delightful. It is very fortunate 
that the hut was not located lower, as the scrub would drift 
the snow so as to half bury it, and the snow would then be- 
come ice. We obtained a scanty supply of water from a point 
near the spring, but were obliged to cut through three feet of 
solid ice to reach it. A hut in such a situation would be use- 
less in winter. A heavy fall of moist snow early in the winter 
might render the hut inaccessible where it is actually located ; 
but this is not likely to happen, and we may therefore safely 
conclude that our new refuge can be used for winter trips. 

Once inside, the remaining and all-important question was, 
Would the chimney draw ? If it would not, we must descend 
to the Ravine House that afternoon. The fire was hard to 
kindle, but once started, it fairly roared. Occasionally, how- 
ever, as the blasts of wind whistled around the peaks, the 
chimney drew the wrong way, and a sheet of flame three feet 
by two blazed out into the room. This, however, did not hap- 
pen often enough to render the smoke uninhabitably dense. 
The great problem was solved ; we could spend the night and 
dedicate the hut. 

But soon another problem presented itself. The thick frost 
on the rafters over the stove began to melt and drip. To 
mitigate this nuisance we took a hoe left by the masons 
and hoed the frost off in glittering showers. Yet all the 
afternoon it dripped, dripped, dripped in all parts of the hut. 
The ponds of water near the stove we bridged with boards which 
it is intended to use in building the bunks. Two cement bar- 
rels and more boards made an excellent table. We dined at 
2.80 on tea, toast, chicken fricasseed in butter, toasted dough- 
nuts, and figs. 

At 3.30 we sallied forth, shod with creepers and armed with 
alpenstocks. Sometimes we crept on ice slopes, at others 


climbed over the rocks. Occasionally it was necessary to 
cross a steep ice slope, and the alpenstock with its sharp 
pike in the end did excellent service. Thus, with three legs 
sharply shod, one could easily and safely make his way on an 
ice slope where to sit down meant a quick descent — some- 
where. Now and then we would throw ourselves flat into the 
crevices among the rocks to catch our breath and rub our 
faces. It was growing colder, the wind was blowing, and at 
times it was impossible to stand against it, much less make 
any progress. It was an exhilarating climb, and we enjoyed 
the sport. 

In just one hour from the hut, the object of the trip was 
accomplished, and we stood on the summit of Mt. Adams. It 
was only a moment, as the wind blew us down among the 
rocks on the east side, where we stayed five minutes, enjoying 
a grand view of Mts. Washington, Clay, Jefferson, and the 
Great Gulf, of the Garter Moriah range and Garter Dome, of 
Eearsarge North, Moat, and Ghocorua. The Twins, Lafayette, 
and Mansfield were also visible from *the summit. After all, 
Adams is the finest part of its own view. It is a genuine 
peak, with deep ravines on either side, and the Glen and 
Ravine Houses far below. On the west side of the Signal 
Service pole the frost crystals were six to eight inches long. 

The descent took half an hour, but some of the time was 
wasted in trying to escape the fiercest blasts by hiding among 
the rocks. At one place there was an ice slope five hundred 
feet long. What a coast, had it not been for the immense 
angular rocks protruding through the ice at the bottom ! It 
happened that I went one side of this ice slope, and Watson 
the other, keeping to the rocks most of the time. As we de- 
scended, the ice slope widened and separated us several hun- 
dred feet. Hearing a call from Watson, I looked across and 
saw that he had reached the upper side of a long arm of the ice 
slope. He must make a long detour, or slide about one hun- 
dred feet. I looked to see what was below. Instead of rocks 
it was a mass of scrub nearly buried in snow. Such snow is 
soft, and therefore there is no danger in coasting. Watson 
also saw this, and therefore prepared to slide. He sat down 
on the ice, leaning well back and with feet foremost. To start. 


it was only necessaiy to let go. Faster and faster he went 
for fifty feet, till the speed and slope were too much for self- 
control; he slewed aronnd, rolled over and descended the 
remaining fifty feet head first with arms outstretched. He 
looked something like a flying-machine, or a new species of 
bird, or like a man diving from a high point, except that his 
hands were far apart, ready to grasp anything. Had he been 
twenty-five feet to the right, the result would have been disas- 
trous, for he would have shot down five himdred feet, and 
have been dashed upon the jagged rocks. But he was where 
he was, and at that point there was no real danger. It was 
supremely funny. The only risk was of a little shaking 
up and some scratches. But even these he escaped, for he 
plunged into soft snow which flew all over him, and with his 
arms he tried in vain to measure the depth. We had plenty 
of short slides; we ran over gentle slopes where one could 
not have trod without creepers, and smooth-shod we slid 
before the wind on the long stretches of glare ice between 
" John Quincy " and Madison. The clouds burned red as the 
sun descended into them. 

A jolly time we had preparing supper, — our oatmeal, tea, 
toast, corned beef, cookies, and doughnuts. Watson said he 
did n*t know how to cook, but he would keep the fire going if 
I would cook. We unanimously pronounced the joint per- 
formance a great success. Then we slung the hammocks, 
one each side of the stove, his being so placed that with a 
stick he could regulate the damper of the stove without get- 
ting out. At 8 o'clock we went outside. The door opened 
upon Orion hanging high above the mountain peaks. In the 
west Venus shone brightly. The temperature seemed about 
zero, but we had no thermometer to tell. The bank of cloud 
along the eastern horizon satisfied me that the moonrise at 
11.69 would not be an attractive feature of our elevated 
sojourn ; nor the sunrise, either. The wind whistled and 
howled, and back we went into the hut. 

The night was comfortable within, though I must admit 
that it was long. I climbed into my hammock at 8.30 and 
did not get out of it till 6.80. Watson had agreed to keep 
the fire going, and he kept his word, replenishing every hour 


or two. The firewood was dead scrob gathered last fall for 
the occasion on which it was used. It burned well ; too well, 
in fact, for a stove-foil wonld disappear too soon — at least for 
Watson's sleep. Occasionally, as I said before, the chimney 
drew the wrong way; but the whistling wind found a few 
crevices through which to supply us with fresh air. It was 
not pleasant, however, to wake from a sound sleep, and be- 
hold a sheet of flame ascending from the stove toward the 
roof. We had a good many naps, interspersed with fire- 
making and jokes. 

After breakfast we again sallied forth, shod with creepers. 
The sun had climbed above the cloud-bank, but still continued 
to struggle with the mists. It seemed not so cold, but the 
wind still blew. From the col between ^* John Quincy " and 
Madison we looked down into the ravine and up to the top of 
Adams. The snow was blowing off the peaks and ridges in 
clouds and streamers, which were wafted or whirled down the 
mountain sides into the deep ravine. Dreary enough looked 
the Glen House in the valley far below. 

Then we climbed the side of Madison from the col, enjoy- 
ing now and then the delightful sensation of sliding up hQl ; 
for it is a fact, the wings of the wind wafted us up ice slopes 
too steep to stand upon unsupported. Behind the rocks on 
top the sun was delightful, and I stayed on the peak half an 
hour. I was specially pleased to see from here the little pond 
which lies between the two summits of Bald Cap, Shelbume. 
The view of Madison from that pond rivals the view from 
Lead Mine Bridge. The descent of the peak to the hut in 
the teeth of the wind required some gymnastics. We climbed, 
slid, crawled, and when we were not careful we blew and flew 
up hill again. 

We concluded our lunch with an excellent after-dinner 
dipper of coffee prepared in the frying-pan. This cooking- 
utensil excels all others in its ability to heat water quickly. 
Then, too, it lends itself so well to many other uses. In it 
we warmed our chicken, toasted our doughnuts, prepared our 
tea, and boiled our oatmeal. The identical frying-pan remains 
in the hut as part of its outfit. 

At 1 o'clock we left the hut for the descent, creepers on our 


feet and snow-shoes in our hands. In crossing to the ridge 
we had no difficulty, bat along the ridge we had a straggle. 
At times we could not see the top of Adams on account of the 
clouds of snow which the wind brought down and whirled 
into the ravine below. The head and west walls of King's 
Bayine were a grand sight, fringed with long streamers and 
whirling clouds of snow. Up the side of Durand Ridge came 
the wind, and tore through the depressions in blasts so fierce 
that all one could do was to hang on. The knobs a£Forded us 
shelter from the blasts, and during the lulls we took the cols 
in spurts. The creepers were a sure dependence, and the 
snow-shoes an unmitigated nuisance. I had mine slung on 
my back, and when the wind got under them thej acted like 

But the top of the ridge was soon traversed ; here we put 
on our snow-shoes and began the descent. We had great fun 
coasting on the steep slopes, only to be buried deep in the soft 
snow. We did not break our own snow-shoes nor any bor- 
rowed ones. In fact, during all my snow-shoeing at Randolph 
my shoes worked like a charm ; put on in the morning, they 
stayed on, even without any adjustment This is very im- 
portant ; for if a shoe breaks or the rigging gets out of kilter 
on a steep slope, it not only is very impleasant, but it renders 
one helpless. In the woods below the ridge we made our 
quickest quarter of a mile ; namely, in five minutes. It was 
done very easily, but is quick snow-shoeing. We reached 
the Ravine House in two hours and twenty minutes from 
the but. 

The Madison-Spring Hut is a great institution; its con- 
straction is one of the best things the Club has done. I 
trust, however, that those members who expect to visit it 
will read the description in the report of the Councillor of 
Improvements, and as a consequence not expect too much. 
It is better than I expected it would be, realizing the difficul- 
ties. It will not only serve as a refuge, but will enable climb- 
ers to enjoy the high mountains, the views, sunrises, and 
sunsets, when Mt. Washington is in cloud. It will be an 
excellent stopping-place for those who wish to traverse the 
peaks from Washington to Madison, and it will render Adams 


more accessible. Last, and by no means least, winter climb- 
ing is now rendered easier and more attractive. With such a 
comfortable hotel as the Ravine House for a base, and with 
such a safe and convenient shelter above the tree-line as the 
Madison-Spring Hut, there is no reason why Club-members 
should not have all the snow-shoeing and climbing they want 

Ascents of Camel's Hump and Lincoln Mountain, 

Br Warren Upham. 

Bead Jan. 9, 1889. 

The only Commonwealth east of the Mississippi whose name 
IS derived from its mountains is Vermont, the Green Mountain 
State; while at the West the names of Montana and Ne- 
vada have this origin. Professors Guyot and Hitchcock 
measured the elevations of five mountains in Vermont which 
exceed 4,000 feet ; the highest being Mt. Mansfield, 4,430 feet 
above the sea. During a visit last autumn to friends in 
Tf^hington County, Vermont, I found opportunity to as- 
cend the two of these which rank third and fourth in eleva- 
tion; namely, Camel's Hump, thirteen miles south of Mt. 
Mansfield, and Lincoln Mountain, ten miles farther south. 
Though these summits have less height than the White 
Mountains on the east and the Adirondacks on the west, 
they yet afford a very extensive and beautiful prospect ; and 
this Green Mountain range in its geographic and geologic 
relations seems to be entitled to at least as much considera- 
tion as those lateral groups of higher mountains, because it 
constitutes a part of the main belt of the Atlantic system of 
mountains, which consists mostly of Archsean gneisses and 
crystalline schists, and extends from Northern Alabama to 
the headland of Gaspd at the mouth of the St. Lawrence 

Saturday, September 22, Camel's Hump was covered with 
clouds ; but this was the only day available for its ascent, 


and the clouds would not prevent geologic observations, 
which were my principal object Leaving Ridley's Station 
(North Duxburj post-office) on the Central Vermont Bail- 
road at 11.30, 1 walked in a half-hour nearly two miles by 
the road up the southwest side of Duxbury brook to Mr. 
George T. Pape's house, from which a wood-road starts west- 
southwesterly up the mountain. With Robert T. Pape, a 
bright lad sixteen years old, well acquainted with the path, 
I started thence at 12.30, and entered the cloud, having 
there about five minutes of light rain, the only rain during 
the day, at 1.15 to 1.20. We reached the slight plateau or 
shoulder where the mountain-house formerly stood, at 2.05, 
and rested there a few minutes. This is at the eastern base 
of the rock hump, the steep ascent of which occupied five 
minutes, and we were on the top from 2.15 to 2.35. The 
distance from Mr. Pape's to the top is about three miles and 
a half, making the whole distance from the railroad nearly 
five and a half miles by the way travelled ; but the summit 
is only three and a half miles south of the railroad, and the 
whistling of passing trains is distinctly heard. The hotel, 
built by the Ridley brothers about thirty years ago near the 
top and close to an excellent perennial spring, failed to re- 
ceive adequate patronage, so that it was allowed to fall into 
a condition of decay, and it was finally burned about a dozen 
years ago. Logging is done on the mountain wood-road 
along the lower half of its extent from Mr. Pape's to the 
summit, and one may ride on horseback along that distance. 
Througli much of this portion, however, a small stream takes 
its course in the hollow of the road and path after heavy 
rains. During recent years no work has been done on this 
path ; and at the upper limit of the mountain lumbering, and 
in one or two places higher up, its course is obscure. Another 
path, leading up from Huntington on the west side of the 
mountain, joins this at the former site of the mountain-house. 
The principal species of trees in the forest which covers 
all the mountain, excepting the hump that forms its summit, 
are balsam fir, spruce, and hemlock, yellow and canoe birch, 
the sugar or rock maple, the soft or red maple, and the beech. 
Of these the most v^uable tree at present cut for sawing is 


the spruce. The paper or canoe birch attains a diameter of 
one to one and a half feet or rarely more ; but the yellow 
birch, which is the more abundant, often reaches a diameter 
of three or four feet. 

Viewed at a distance from any point of the compass, the 
top of Camel's Hump stands up as a prominent bunch, ac- 
cording well with its name. This hump, 150 or 200 feet 
high and less than a quarter of a mile in diameter, is mostly 
bare rock, much jointed and seamed but remaining in its 
original position, without covering either of any considerable 
number of bowlders brought by the ice-sheet or of its own 
masses fractured by frost. It sustains on its sides and lower 
portion a few stunted firs, spruces, and birches, which find 
root-hold in its seams and crevices ; while its upper part bears 
on little sandy and gravelly patches of the glacial drift a 
few species of boreal and subarctic flowering plants, besides 
mosses and lichens. The only distinctly alpine plant that 
1 noticed was the mountain or Greenland sandwort (Arenaria 
Groenlandica, Spreng.), which was found plentiful in bloom. 
Professor Q. H. Perkins's Catalogue of the Flora of Vermont 
credits Camel's Hump with the rare fern Aspidium fragrans, 
Swartz ; and a letter from him enumerates many noteworthy 
species found in the upper woods and on the bald top of this 
mountain, including Viburnum pauciflorum, Pylaie ; Alnus 
viridis, DC. ; Habenaria obtusata. Rich. ; Ledum latifolium, 
Ait. ; Vaccinium uliginosum, L. ; V. caespitosum, Michx. ; V. 
Vitis-Idaea, L., and V. oxycoccus, L. ; Potentilla tridentata, 
Sol. ; Galium Kamtschaticum, Steller ; and Solidago Vir- 
gaurea, L., var. alpina, Bigelow. 

The northern side and top of the hump present the usual 
rounded outlines of stoss sides of rock in glaciated regions ; 
but its southern and southeastern face is an almost perpen- 
dicular precipice. The rock is dark greenish mica schist, 
enclosing laminas and lenticular aggregations of white quartz 
a quarter of an inch or more in thickness. Its strike at the 
summit is N. 10® E. (this bearing, and all noted in this paper, 
being referred to the astronomic meridian), with dip of 85"* 
N. 80** W. ; but within a short distance the irregularly con- 
torted and folded strata show portions dipping only 80® W. 

APPALACniA y. 21 


In descending the path down the northeastern side of the 
mountain on our return, four other observations of strike and 
dip were taken about a third, a half, and two thirds of a 
mile, and one mile from the summit, being successively of 
strike, N. 10^ W., N. to S., N. 10^ E., and N. 10*^ W., 
with dip varying from nearly vertical to 70® W. ; but the 
rock is often much contorted, so that the dip is obscure. 
Through this distance the rock continues witii nearly the 
same characters as at the top, except that in descending it is 
found to contain here and there small crystalline aggrega- 
tions of magnetite. 

Professor C. H. Hitchcock, in the Report on the Geology 
of Vermont, records the course of drift striae on Camel's 
Hump S. 50® E. (corrected for magnetic variation). On the 
mountain top the schist itself, because of weathering, does not 
retain its original glacial markings ; but fortunately they are 
preserved by occasional quartz masses which are found pro- 
jecting from the matrix of the rock. Three observations 
thus obtained by Mr. Edward Hungerford close to the summit 
were S. 10® W. ; the same, with variation to due S.; and 
S. 85® E. About 700 feet below the summit he recorded 
courses of stri» S. 20® E., and again S. 40® E., these being in 
the path from Ridley's Station. My notation of strias at the 
same place, or perhaps slightly lower, being about two thirds 
of a mile from the summit, is S. E. These observations 
show that the continental ice-sheet flowed to the south and 
southeast across the Green Mountain range. The ordinary 
coarsely rocky unmodified glacial drift thickly covers the 
lower slopes of this mountain, so that there are few exposures 
of the bed-rock. It is spread somewhat more thinly upon the 
upper slopes, but generally forms the surface, excepting only 
the summit hump of bald rock, which yet has scanty traces 
of the drift. 

The elevation of the summit, according to Guyot, is 4,088 
feet above the sea. Less than four miles to the north, where 
the Winooski River cuts through the Green Mountain range, 
dividing Camel's Hump from Mt. Mansfield, that stream is 
only about 325 feet above the sea ; the elevations of Bolton 
and Waterbury stations on the Central Vermont Railroad 


being, according to Gannett, respectively, 845 and 484 feet ; 
while that of Roxbary Station, the highest point of this rail- 
road, is 1,016 feet. Portions of the mountain are owned by 
three townships, — Doxbury on the east, Bolton on the north, 
and Huntington on the southwest, the top being in the north- 
east corner of Huntington. 

As Gamers Hump was clouded on the day of my ascent, 
which was the first after a heavy rain, I copy a description of 
the view in the words of Bev. O. T. Flanders, who climbed 
the mountain last summer. He writes: — 

^*A soft dog-day's haze pervaded the atmosphere, and toned 
down into exquisite loveliness and softness every feature of the 
landscape, without in the least obscuring them. The great height 
drew tc^ether and focalized the prospect, making distant objects 
seem near ; but magnitude and immensity were the abiding im- 
pressions. . . . The circle of our view swept far in everj^ direction. 
The State of Vermont, with parts of New Hampshire, New York, 
and Canada, laj' spread out before us. To the north the glass 
revealed Orford Mountain and the city of Montreal. In the east 
lay the White Mountain chain, Mt. Washington towering over all. 
The railway on Mt. Washington was a noticeable feature, and 
could be distinctly seen. In the west the Adirondacks, seemingly 
not far away, swept northward, pile upon pile and peak succeeding 
peak, until lost in the Canadian haze and distance. Between the 
White and Green Mountain ranges the country is very broken, and 
the eye wanders over a succession of lofty hills and deep valleys. 
. • . Beautiful and grand as is the eastern view from Camel's Hump, 
it is immeasurably surpassed b}' the western. The space between 
the Green Mountains and the Adirondacks may properly be styled 
a valley, with a broad and comparatively level bottom. It is from 
fifteen to thirty miles wide, and more than a hundred and thirty 
long. This is the garden of Vermont ; and from the top of the 
grand old Hump, verily it looks like a garden. It has the best 
features of a Swiss and English landscape commingled. Lake 
Champlain lieth in the midst of it, looking like a pearl set in a 
basket of verdure." 

Two days later, on the 24th, I ascended Lincoln Mountain, 
which is situated about ten miles farther south, in the north- 
east comer of Lincoln township. It thence extends north- 

324 ASCENTS OF cahel's huhp and 

ward into Fayston, and its eastern slope is in Warren. This 
mountain attains an elevation of 4,078 feet, as measured bj 
Guyot, being only ten feet lower than Camel's Hump. Ac- 
companied by Mr. Azro D. Bragg, of Fayston, I started at 
ten o'clock from Mr. Lewis Bettis's house, at the east base of 
the mountain, in the north edge of Warren ; and an hour 
and forty-five minutes were occupied in the ascent, the dis- 
tance being about two and a half miles. The first mile we 
followed a wood-road, used in winter for lumbering, which 
extends southwesterly up the valley of a large brook. After 
leaving the stream and area of logging, we climbed in a 
nearly due west course up the very steep mountain side. 

Within a short distance on our left was the path of a slide, 
which fell on the 28th of June, 1827. It is still distinctly 
miyrked, after more than sixty years, by its growth of decidu- 
ous trees, contrasted with the darker evergreen spruce and 
fir, which with stunted birches cover the upper half of 
the mountain, and with hemlock are intermingled among the 
deciduous species in the forest on its lower slopes. On the 
day when the slide occurred, according to an account of it by 
Mr. D. S. Stoddard, there had been a thunder-shower early in 
the forenoon, and a heavy rain had fallen during the preced- 
ing day. Tiie roar of the falling slide was heard in the vil- 
lages of Warren and Waitsfield, six miles away ; and in 
farmhouses nearer the mountain a tremor was felt like that of 
an earthquake. The top of the slide was about twenty rods 
below the bald summit climbed by us. Its length, measured 
a week after its fall, was found to be 200 rods nearly straight 
down the mountain, beyond which it was deflected by water- 
courses, and the lower end of its accumulated debris of rocks, 
earth, and broken trunks and branches of trees was at a dis- 
tance of 280 rods farther, its total extent being thus one and 
a half miles. The pathway of the slide is narrow near the 
top, but rapidly widens, its maximum width of twenty-four 
rods being where it turns from its straight course. It was 
estimated that the area bared of forest was not less than 
twenty acres. 

This mountauL extends as a high ridge along a distance of 
about five miles from north to south. Its only treeless point 


is that to which we climbed, going up a drift-covered, wooded 
slope of 20"" to 45^ along the last half-mile. The area of this 
kuob of naked ledge, projecting slightly above depressions in 
the crest of the ridge on each side, is scarcely an acre. 
Thence to the north and south the rock of the ridge is mostly 
concealed by the glacial drift, and the crest is wooded, afford- 
ing no unobstructed prospect. This bald knob and the peak 
named Potato Hill, which rises as a prominent part of the 
crest of this ridge at a distance of about one and a half miles 
to the south, have nearly the same height, which is given by 
Hitchcock, for the latter, as 8,986 feet above the sea. The 
highest point of Lincoln Mountain, however, is nearly a half- 
mile northward (N. IS"* W.) from the knob ascended by us, 
and rises about a hundred feet higher, the elevations stated 
by Guyot and Hitchcock being found apparently consistent 
with each other. Excepting Potato Hill, this mountain is 
unnamed on Walling's map of Vermont. Its name of Lincoln 
Mountain, as it is called by Guyot, is probably best known on 
its west side, in Lincoln and adjoining townships. On its 
east side this name is less frequently heard, and instead 
it is often called Slide Mountain. It belongs to the main 
Green Mountain range; and from it Camel's Hump and 
Mt. Mansfield, lying in the same great range, bear closely 
alike N. 10^ E. 

The rock forming Lincoln Mountain is greenish gray mica 
schist, nearly like that of Camel's Hump, with which it is 
doubtless continuous. Its strike on the bald knob is N. 10** 
E., the same as at the top of Camel's Hump ; but the dip is 
in the opposite direction, being on Lincoln Mountain 35° to 
45° S. 80^ E. It lies in the anticlinal belt of gneiss and mica 
schist of wliich the Green Mountain range consists along 
nearly its entire course through Vermont, being the oldest 
rock-formation and stratigraphically the lowest in the State, 
although uplifted to form its highest elevations. The re- 
lationship of this rock-formation to the remainder of the 
state, both stratigraphically and topographically, is exhibited 
in Professor C. H. Hitchcock's series of thirteen " Geological 
Sections across New Hampshire and Vermont," published in 
1884 in pages 155 to 179 (with two plates) in Vol. I. of 

826 ASCENTS OF camsl's humf^ etc. 

the Balletin of the American MoBettm of Natural History, 
Central Park, New York. No facial stris were obsenred ; 
but the north and west sides of the knob have rounded 
outlines, probably due to the glacial current moving from 
the northwest) while the southeastern side falls off more 

In the Warm noon sunshine, while we were eating our 
dinner on this summit, two or three small birds flew near us, 
and they probably afterward partook of remnants of our re^ 
past which we left for them. Several partridges (more prop- 
erly called ruffed grouse) flew away at our approach when 
we were about half-way between the base and die top ; and 
the *^ chickaree " of the red squirrel was heard in the spruce 
and fir woods at a considerably higher elevation. The hedge- 
hog, or porcupine, the wildcat, lynx, black bear, and red deer 
also make their home on these mountun ranges. When blue^ 
berries are ripe and abundant in the clearings on the lower 
slopes. Bruin often comes down from the forest to eat of 
them ; and deer occasionally venture out into the pastures to 
feed with the farmer's cows. 

From Lincoln Mountain our view extended across the 
Connecticut, and many ridges and hills, to Mts. Moosilauke, 
Lafayette, and Washington, which stand up prominently on 
the eastern horizon. The distance to Mt. Washington is 
about eighty miles. On the north and south the Green 
Mountains, darkly wooded near, and blue in the far distance, 
are seen along almost their entire extent^ with fertile farms, 
villages, and church spires in the green valleys at their base. 
But the most impressive part of the whole prospect is where, 
from thirty to sixty miles distant, the broadly extended mass 
of the Adirondacks rises in majesty beyond the silver belt of 
Lake Champlain, lifting its sharp peaks, rounded domes, and 
serrated ridges high against the western sky. 



Thb PioiTBBBS 07 THB Alps. Bj C D. CuiTirivoHAX and Captain Abitbt, 
K. E. F. B. 0. Ji^ndon: JB^mpsm l4^iir, Marpton, S«arle, an4 BiviDgton, 

Thb explorer, the moantameeri and tbe spoitsmmn always feel a keen interest in the 
Ures of thoee who have aocompawed them aa guides in the wilderness; hence such a 
hook as we are reviewing (perhaps the most amhitioos pablication issaed within a num- 
her of years relating to the Alps of Switzerland) moit appeal to all who have chanced 
to climb with any of the celebrated leaden who figure in its pages. The title seems a 
iittle misleading, however, when we poaaider that ti» main idea of the book is to give 
sketches and porMts of living guides. 

The literary partnership is a happy combination. One Oif the editors, the one who 
has taken upon hinuelf thesuparvjsion of the literary part of the work* is a mountaineer 
of wide experience, especially in connection with winter ascents.^ The other, who is 
responsible for the illustrations, which are made from his negatives, is a recognized 
authority on the art of photogrephy,^ and certainly has proved in this book his prac* 
tical abiUty, as his learned treatises hav« proven his theoretical knowledge of the 

Tlie scope of the work is clearly given in the opening sentences of the preface : ** In 
the pagee now presented to the reader will be found a collection of sketches of the 
lives and of portraits of those who first conquered the great peaks, opened out the 
mountain highways, and who may fairly be said to have made possible that sport which 
so many of us enjoy every year in the Alps, — men who are, or have been in their day, 
undoubtedly great guides. The present is a singularly favorable time for fonning such 
a pollection^ as in addition to the portraits of those guides who have perfected the Art 
of Climbing, and who are stiU among us, we are able to obtain the likenesses of many 
of those who took the largest share in the work of exploring the Alps after the com- 
mencement of systematic mountaineering." 

The sketches of the guides are written by amateun who have travelled much with 
the subjects, and the eighteen contributore are mountaineers who have gained renown 
in the Alps, the Himalayas, the Caucasus, and other mountain regions. 

The book is prefaced by nine essays on the " Growth and Development of Moun- 
taineering"; I. Period 1387-1787; H. Period 1788-1854; III. Period 1856-1865; 
IV. Period 1866-1885 ; Y. Alpine Accidents ; YI. Mountaineering without Guides ; 
YH. Mountaineering in Winter; YIII. Ice-axe and Rope; DC. Guidecraft. Then 
follow individual sketches of those who have helped to conquer the most difiicult 
peaks, and thus are considered worthy of being designated as '*The Pioneers of the 

As to the scene of their labors, the following (from page 77) will probably be In accord 
with the views of all mountaineers : ** The Alps, those districts which the pioneers 
whose names we are recording have opened out to u», have an individuality and a pecu- 
liar charm of their own, which I doubt if any other mountain ranges in the whole 
world possess. Those of .us whose fate it has been to run to and fro upon the earth, 
never visit a mountain district which is new to us without mentally comparing it with 
the Alps. Whether we have been looking at Mt. Everest from Sinchel, or watching 
the shadow of Adam's Peak as it gradually reaches the horizon, or while in camp 
among the Rockies or the Sierra Nevadas, the Alps always remain the criterion of our 

1 Alpine JoumAl, toI. zl. p. 263 ; toL zlil. p. 78. 

s Encyclopaedia Britsnnlea, 9th ed., toI. xtHL, art *' Photography.*' 


ideal of what b beantifol, and fomi the baaii from which wa regard what are parfaapa 
vaster and more imposing ranges.** 

Space will not permit us to speak of the illustrations in detaiL Of two famous guides 
known to as, their portraits are tme likenesses. The bits of Alpine scenes which figore 
as tail-pieces are rtrj striking. F. H. c. 


Columbia, ih 1888. Bj Rer. W. Sfotswood Gbbbh. (Prooeedinga of the 
Rojal Geographical Society.) 

SixTEBN pages of the March number of this Talned exchange are given up to Mr. 
Green, who has gained name and fame as the explorer of the Alps of New Zealand. 
Not a paragraph lacks in Interest, and it is to be hoped that the author will at an early 
date publish his account in book form. Surelj such a work would be sought for and be 
widely read both in Canada and the United States. Any mountaineer contemplating 
a visit to the Selkirks should carefully read this document and study the beantifnl map 
(the result of the author's work) which accompanies it. 

Among the names given by Mr. Green, we are glad to notice on the map thoae of Mt. 
Bonney (10,622 feet) and Mt. Donkin. Of the topographical work Mr. Green writes: 
" I made in all twenty-two plane table stations, measured four base lines, and from 
other points took bearings with a prismatic compass. Besides sketchmg panoramas, we 
photographed the views from most of our stations, took observations of barometer and 
thermometer, and from these data I have constructed the map which accompaniea this 
paper. One element at least is wanting ; namely, elevations of pomts we did not reach. 
1 had a sextant with me for this purpose ; but on our very first expedition, with a pack- 
horse, the animal was seized with a sudden paroxysm of buck jumping, kicked the 
packs off, rolled on them, smashed the sextant to bits, and broke a valuable thermometer 
belonging to your Society; but a box of photographic plates fortunately escaped. From 
that time forward I never again trusted our instruments to the mercy of a horse." 

A very similar accident happened to the writer of this notice In the Rockies last 
summer. A camera box was knocked all to pieces by a bucking broncho, and ther- 
mometer plates, level, compass, and diaphragms scattered to the four winds. 

The scenery seemnd more to resemble that of the Tyrol than of the Alps. Many of 
the peaks are of about 10,000 feet elevation ; probably none exceed 11,000 feet. Tlie 
height of Glacier Hotel is given as 4,122 feet. 

As for the flora: *'In the Selkirks, as yet, the brown ch&lets are missing, and our 
ears fail to catch the clang of the cow-bells, but the flowers are there in nch profusion. 
When in the high Alps of New Zealand, 1 had to acknowledge that the Alpine flora was 
far inferior, in color at least, to that of Switzerland. Not so in the Selkirks. Were it 
not that the blue star of the gentian is missing, I would say that we had more color in 
America. The most conspicuous of these Alpine plants is CaMltia mimata ; its scarlet 
blossoms giving a marvellous brightness to the mountain slopes, and to the older por- 
tions of the glacier moraines, which were perfect gardens of flowers." 

As for the wild animals : *' Bears of at least three species wander in the valleys of the 
Selkirks, — the black, the cinnamon, and the silrer-tip, as the variety of grizzly Is 
called. They are very numerous, — almost every day we came upon their tracks; but 
they are so shy, and the coyer is so dense, that we never got a shot at one. Mountain 
goats in the more unfrequented valleys are numerous, and so little used to man, that on 
one occasion, when we were at breakfast, one of them walked right into our camp, and 
stood inspecting us at flve yards' distance; only for the red glow of the sun, rising 
through smoke of forest fires, I might have had hia photograph.'* v. h. c. 


CuMBiNO Mt. St. Elias. Bj Wiluax Wiluaxb, in the April nnmber of 
** Scribner's Magazine." 

Illustbations from regions of perpetaal snow attract and captirate adventurous 
natures, whether they in imagination stand by the side of Dr. Kane's stanch lieutenant, 
Morton, and gaze upon the mythical polar sea, or look upon pictures of ice>fall and 
crevasse as portrayed in the pages of Alpine literature. Such scenes are portrayed in 
this article. Failing by some seven thousand feet to attain the summit of the peak, 
the expedition was nevertheless one of great interest, and for pioneer work very suc- 
cessful. Far removed from the base of supplies, the party could not make a camp high 
enough on the slopes of the mountain to allow them to reach the highest cone in one day 
from such station. The route was varied somewhat from that taken by the expedition 
under command of Lieutenant Schwatka (1886), and the peak itself was more thor- 
oughly explored. Future travellers will find their work made easier by the aid of the 
information gained by Mr. Williams's party, and routes can be laid out by studying the 
panoramic view of the chain which accompanies his description. 

When high up on the mountain, the adventurers followed the rim of a great crater. 
From the highest point gained (about 11,400 feet), they estimated the height above as 
about 7,000 feet, which would give the peak an altitude of nearly 18,500 feet ; a thousand 
feet leas than that allowed by the Coast Survey. These bold mountaineers have prob- 
ably made the longest ascent ever accomplished on ice, for the limit of perpetual snow 
on the range is only 3,000 feet above the ocean. From their elevated station a remark- 
able view was obtained. Mr. Williams writes : ** One of the glaciers we looked down 
upon was not less than sixty miles long, while another attained a breadth of twenty-five 
or thirty miles." 

We have had good opportunities to learn much of Alaska during the last few years, — 
of its glaciers, bays, rivers, and seal fisheries; but this expedition began where the 
ordinary tourist ends his trip, and ether explorations pale in importance in the presence 
of an attempt to climb the peaks of St. Elias or Wrangle. 

One is led to wonder why some explorer does not go direct from Takutat, where there 
is an Indian settlement, over the hills to Mt Vancouver (13,000 feet), and tiy that peak 
first. It is but fifty miles from St Elias, and but ten miles from Mt Cook (15,000 
feet). From its summit the northern countiy could be overlooked; that is the incognita 
of which we wish to know something, and the conquering of Mt. Vancouver would 
possibly lead to knowledge that might be of advantage in subsequent struggles with the 
higher mountains. Of course the traveller who goes such a great distance wishes to 
take every chance that will enable him to bag the biggest game, but success on Mt. 
Vancouver is not to be decried. f. h. c. 

Abots thb Show-Lihb. Mountaineering sketches between 1870 and 1880. 
By Cliktoh Dbvt, Vice-President of the Alpine Club. London : Longmans, 
Green &Co. 

Ths author of this volume was with Mr. Donkin, of whose untimely end in the 
Caucasus last summer fuller mention is made below. Very fortunately, ill-health 
prevented his continuing the explorations, and he returned to England; but this 
connection with CancasiaU expeditions calls especial attention to his Alpine book. The 
interest centres in the account of the first ascent of the Rothhom (Morning) from 
Zermatt, the ascent of the Bietschhoni,^ and the early attempts on that diflicult rock- 
peak the Aiguille dn Dru, and its final conquest Even the ordinary tourist must feel 
an intareat in the sharp pinnacle of the Dru ; for it is such a conspicuous object, ever 
before the eyes of the visitor to the valley of Chamonix. 

1 for an infuTHsHng aeooont of a tobaeqiMnt sicent of the Bletaehhoni without (uklas, by P. 
Monteadoa of the Swlai Alptns Clob, see I/ieho d« Alpet, Na lY., 1887. 


In (Iw oonelading chaptor, ** The Futon of ICoimUineering/' Mr. Dent tfgnec with 
eonaiderable force that the rmrefAction of the air will not be the obetaele that will 
prevent cllmben from finally reaching the higheat elevations of the globe, such as the 
lofty Himalayan sommits. 

The important illostrations are two engravings by Edward Whymper, — the Bietsch- 
hom from the Petersgrat, and the Aiguille dn Om, ^m the south. p. b. c. 


Is the Kovember number (1888) of the PneeMmgt of lAe Ro^al Otoffrapkical 
SocUtp, Mr. Douglas W. Freshfield summarizes the resulu of several ezpeditioDs.i A 
very striking view of Tetnold (from a photograph by Mr. Donkin, taken in 1886) is 
published with the article. Writing of the great peaks Mr. Freshfield remarks: '^Of 
these peaks, Elbrua has been ascended four times, — in 1868 and 1874 by Englishmen, 
in 1884 by M. de Dtehy, last summer (according to the newspapers) by Baron Ungem 
Sternberg. Three parties at least, including the well-known Siberian explorer M. 
Irdnoff, have failed in it Kasbeck was climbed by myself and my friends in 1868, 
and never again (despite numerous statements to the contrary) until 1887, when 
M. Lerco, a Piedmontese gentleman, with an Alpine guide, writes me he reached the 
summit. Koshtantan, Tetnuld, Kartantau, Gestold, Dongusorun, Ada! Choch, Shkarm, 
and Ushba are the other great peaks that have been climbed." 

Besides this we find that " other peaks varying from 11,100 feet to 18,(00 feet, have 
been climbed, some twenty glacier passes of over ten thousand feet have been oroesed. 
The expeditions have been made by travellers of Alpine experience, capable tbersfore 
of appreciating and deaoribing by reference to * weUoknown standard what th«y ka^-e 

Thb mountaineering season of 1888 was marred by a sad accident in the far East. 
That eminent Alpinist and successful photographer of mountains, Mr. W. F. Donkin, 
with his friend Mr. H. Fox, and two guides, Kaspar Streich and Johann Fischer, of 
Meiringen, Switzerland, were lost in the snows of the Caucasus, and no traees have been 
found of any of them. 

The accident was on the occasion of Mr. Donkin*s second visit to the Caucasus. All 
mountaineers will regret his death. Who has ever looked over his numerous and beauti- 
ful photographs and not immediately felt enthusiastic to climb in the Alps? The 
following lines, taken from a tribute to his memory, convey to us what he has done for 
the mountains of Switzerland. " His skill as a mountaineer enabled him to carry his 
camera to heights inaccessible to common men, to the pinnacles of the Weisshom, the 
Aiguilles du G^ant and Dru, to reproduce worthily for the first time on an adequate 
scale the features ef the most secret recesses of the High Alps. Since Mr. Donkin, at 
his friends* urgent request, allowed his photographs to be sold, Ao lover of mountains, 
no teacher of physical science has needed any longer to be at a loss for a remembrance 
or an example of Alpine scenery or glacier action. What Londoner but has paused 
before a well-known window in the Strand to look up above the mud of the streets and 
the celebrities of the hour to the imposing frieze of great peaks and glaciers, to recog- 
nise or admire some fresh addition to Mr. Donkin*s gallery of the giants of the Alps? *' 

F. H. c. 

1 for detsUed aeeoums the i«sder Is rsfored to other srtiel^, namely : Proe. R. Qeog. 8oo^ 
Jane, 1888, art. " BwuMtia,** hj D. W. Frahfield ; Alpine Joomal, Fvbniary, 1889. mrt " An 
Expedition to the Oaucaras,** hj H. W. Holder i Ibid., Norember, 1888, "Notes of an Xzpedidon 
to the Caucasus, ele.,'* by Clinton Dent. 


Retrospect and Prospect. 


THB 0ii9 UvJonmfytM Cobfobatb Mutxvo of thb Club* AUbcq U, 

On the 1st of January, 1876, Professor E. C, Pickering 
issued fifty cards of invitation for a meeting at the Institute 
of Technology ^ of those interested in mountain exploration." 
Of that meeting, Professor Fay was chairman. Three prelimi- 
nary meetings were held, and the first regular meeting at which 
a permanent organization was effected was on the 9th of Feb- 
ruary. Professor Pickering was naturally selected as Presi- 
dent. To him, undoubtedly, belongs the honor of founding the 
Club. The story of its origin is modestly and interestingly 
told in Appalachia, Vol. I. No. 2, in his retiring address as 

Two questions, of course, presented themselves at the outset, 
and were thoroughly discussed, — (1) The name; (2) The 
object of the Club. The name must be considered a fortunate 
suggestion. It has an aboriginal flavor, is euphonious, and is 
at the same time sufficiently distinctive to express in a gen- 
eral way the nature of the Club. For although Webster tells 
us that the name was derived from the Apalaches, a tribe of 
Indians in the western part of Oeorgia, and thence applied to 
Uie mountains in or near their country, which are those of the 
southern extremity of the All^hanian range, yet the later 
encyclopedias tell us that it is a general name applied to a 
vast system extending for 1,800 miles, from Gape Qzspb on 
the Gulf of St. Lawrence to Alabama, and embracing the 
Green Mountains, the White Mountains, the Adirondacks, the 
Alleghanies, the Blue Ridge, the Black, the Smoky, and the 
Unaka Mountains, of all which the Black Dome, or Mitchell's 
Peak, in North Carolina, rising to 6,707 feet, is the highest 
summit. This system would certainly afford a comfortable 
range of exploration ; but Professor Pickering early extended 
the definition to embrace everything east of the Rocky Moun- 
tains, and si^gested that the rest of the earth might be in- 
cluded in the phrase ^ adjacent re^ons.'' 


The objects to which the Club should devote itself was a 
more important problem. The interest of some was geograph- 
ical, that of others scientific ; some cared mainly for explora- 
tions, others for healthful excursions ; and still others for tliat 
side of Nature which satisfies the sense of beauty. At the 
second regular meeting it was voted, apparently without 
division, that women should be admitted to the Club upon 
equal footing with men. When we consider that this was 
thirteen years ago, the liberality and sagacity of this policy are 


The statistics of membership are as follows : — 

Original membera, Feb. 9, 1876 89 

Daring the year the number rose to 110 

Daring the year 1877, to 193 

At incorporation March 18, 1878, corporators were . . . 150 

The Annual Register thereafter shows the number as 
follows : — 

1879 189 1884 5i0 

1880 285 1885 807 

1881 821 1886 668 

1882 405 1887 685 

1883 501 1888 691 

The Register for the present year will exhibit no material 
variation from the last. Approximately some 1,200 persons 
have been connected with the Club during some portion of its 
history. Of the original 39 members 25 are with us still. 

I consider it desirable that during the year the number of 
members should reach one thousand. It is not unreasonable 
that we should gain some considerable accessions from lovers 
of mountains throughout New England ; for our excursions 
cover a large part of it, and some of the best privileges, as 
well as the honors of membership, are available to those who 
reside at a distance. But if we look only for enlargement to 
the vicinity of Boston, it seems reasonable and feasible to reach 
the number I have indicated. I think it is a moderate esti- 
mate to say that we have at least 350 members who are so 


situated, and have such an active interest in our Club, that 
the7 could each secure us at least one new member, and that 
would accomplish the result. Such an increase would at once 
add over $1,700 to our funds, and give us an additional income 
each year of $1,000. 

Of course great care should be taken, as is taken now, to 
see that no person is elected to membership who has tlie 
slightest stain upon honor or character, or who has any traits 
that disqualify from pleasurable companionship. Bearing 
this in mind, we should then welcome all who love moun- 
tains well enough to contribute the dues of the Club, which 
are all devoted to its objects. May I suggest two classes of 
persons who should be secured in larger numbers for our 
membership ? One is our young people, as soon as they have 
reached an age to appreciate the work and the pleasures of the 
Club. Does not our organization offer to parents a rare op- 
portunity to secure for their children a healthy companionship, 
an invigorating exercise, a stimulating incitement to the ac- 
quaintance with and the love of Nature which will prove a 
perennial source of refreshment and strength? 

And, then, what better gift can our religious societies con- 
fer upon their pastors than a Life Membership among the 
Appalachians ? The very name ^^ pastors " has a rural sound, 
and suggests green pastures and still waters. But, alas ! we 
have pastors who spend their lives in their studies. If you 
could turn them out of doors, if only for a Saturday afternoon 
outing, the Sunday sermon would be the saner and the 
sweeter, and all through the week the man would be the 
cheerier and the braver. 

Club Boom. 

With increased means come increasing opportunities. We 
owe a lasting debt of gratitude to our honored ex-President, 
Colonel Higginson, for his energetic and successful efforts in 
procuring for us our present Club Boom. But the time has 
come to look forward to the possession of a more commodious, 
convenient, and accessible one. With ampler means, either from 
our revenues, or from the gifts of friends of large means and 

334 BSTBOSFBCr Ain> fbosfbct. 

large hearts, we might aecore apartments inTiting in all tiieir 
arrangements, and with a hall large enough to accommodate 
the audiences at our meetings* A building might be secured 
in which other societies of a literary character might also find 
rooms ; and a lecture-hall might be used in common. It is 
clear that we ought not to be permanently dependent on the 
courtesy of our good friends of the Institute of Technology^ 
These rooms should be so generally open as to invite the meet- 
ing of members in a social way, and should be furnished with 
complete selections of stereoscopic and photographic views of 
the mountain scenery of the world. Here, too, would be an 
opportunity for the adornment of our walls with the amateur 
paintings and sketches of our own members, or the generous 
gifts of purchased works of art. And, occasionally, there 
might be Art Exhibitions of landscapes to which eminent 
artists would willingly contribute. And so something of im« 
portance might be effected towards the cultivation of the taste 
for Art among the lovers of Nature. Is it extravagant to hope 
to see the day when the rooms of the Appalachian Club will 
be among the attractions of Boston ? And to artistic beauty 
may also be added all the treasures of related science and lit- 
erature. Already our library is with difficulty provided for on 
the walls of our little " sky parlor ; " and this library is con- 
stantly growing by exchanges, and is, we trust, at no distant 
day to grow largely by purchases and generous benefactions. 


The Club has been very fortunate in its periodicaL It may 
well take pride in its uniform good taste, its scholarship, and 
the catholicity of its range. Appalachia has well repre- 
sented all the various tendencies and purposes of our organi- 
zation, — its scientific, its descriptive, and its (esthetic articles 
all do it credit I have familiarized myself with its pages ; 
and the first suggestion I wish to make is that all our mem* 
bers should complete their sets of this publication. They will 
find the reading both interesting and profitable ; and the peru« 
sal of the history of the Society will deepen their interest in 
its work. It is well that this should be attended to at once 


hf those who wish to seotire all the numbers, as the supply of 
some is quite limited. Public libraries should also seize the 
present opportunity. 

The next suggestion I would make is that Appalachia 
diould be issued with greater regularity, and at least three 
times a year. There are a large number of our members who 
reside at such a distance from Boston that they cannot attend 
our meetings or join in our Outings ; and yet they are punc- 
tual in the discharge of their dues, and loyal in their attach- 
ment to the Club. To such Appalachia is our only message. 
Its perusal keeps the bond of union fresh and strong. An ad- 
ditional number each year would also enable us to add to its 
contents a more detailed account of our weekly outings, and 
a new department of extracts and translations of specially 
interesting matter from foreign alpine periodicals. 

As to the means of meeting the increased expenditure, I 
should hope that with the improvements I have suggested, it 
would be found practicable by good business methods to 
increase largely the sale of single numbers, especially at 
mountain resorts. The other suggestion on this point which 
I have to make I shall venture to offer under the shelter and 
in the words of Colonel Folsom, our Treasurer ten years 
ago : " Whether the sales of Appalachia cannot be increased 
(and its revenue enlarged) by adding to it popular features, 
without lessening its dignity or scientific value ; perhaps, for 
example, by a carefully selected sheet of advertisements which 
would naturally embrace all articles of mountain equipment 
as well as routes of travel, and perhaps hotels and boajrding- 


I have neither time nor ability to estimate the scientific or 
topographical work of the Club. Its touristic department is 
more easily reviewed. Its main exploration has been among 
the group of White Mountains, although it has visited the 
Green Mountains, the Berkshire Hills, and the picturesque 
heights which surround the beautiful waters of Memphre- 
xH^og. With the exception of that wonderful Alpine pass of 
Dixville Notch, it has traversed over and over again the whole 


White Monntain re^on. It has given to many hundreds 
pleasant hours at North Conway, Crawford's, Fabyan's, the 
Twin Mountain House, Bethlehem, the Profile, the Flume, 
Greeley, Plymouth, Jefferson, Jackson, the Glen, Gorham, and 
the Summit of Washington, and enabled them to bring back 
something of the strength of the hills, and happy memories 
for a lifetime. 

In an Address made by Professor Fay, as our President, ten 
years ago, he called to mind that ^ our Club stands as perhaps 
the sole representative on this continent of the interests of 
aesthetics as related to Nature ; " and added : ^^ It seems to me 
our duty as a Society to encourage in every possible way a 
habit of country walks, rambles afoot over the numerous 
beautiful hills that lie within a radius of ten miles of Boston, 
and are so readily accessible. For themselves, for what they 
look upon, for the healthful and helpful effect upon the ram- 
bler, they well repay a visit. They lack, of course, the gran- 
deur of the mountains ; they appeal but slightly, if at all, to 
the sentiment of the sublime, but the cultivating influences of 
the serene and beautiful, the broadening tendency of the 
extended, the invigorating refreshment of cheerful exercise 
they can impart." I do not know whether this is the 
*^seed thought" from which our Outings have sprung, but 
it may well have been.^ These Outings have multiplied so 
much during the last year or two that they seem to have be- 
come a regular Saturday-afternoon institution, the Snow-shoe 
Section utilizing the times unavailable to ordinary pedestrians. 
During a portion of the year the instructions so generously 
given by Professor Niles in a course of Field Studies have 
proved to his class an additional source of great interest and 

Our Papers. 

When we consider how entirely we have depended on vol- 
untary and uncompensated work, it is remarkable that the 
papers read before the Club have not only been of a high 
average ability, but that not one has been unworthy of presen- 
tation. Many of them have been of a scientific character ; but 

1 The credit of initiating the scheme it due to ex-Pnsident Edmands. — Ed. 


the greater part have been of a narrative or descriptive nature. 
We have travelled in imagination, and often with the vivid aid 
of the lantern, not only the familiar ranges of our White 
Hills, and the less frequented hills and valleys of New Eng- 
land, including the rugged ascent of far-off Ktaadn and the 
picturesque scenery of Mt. Desert, but also the charming 
Catskills and the wild Adirondacks of New York ; we have 
visited the groups of the Appalachian chain in the Virginias 
and North Carolina ; we have gazed often and long upon the 
wonders of the Yellowstone Park and the Yosemite, and 
crossed over to the Santa Barbara Isles; we have skirted 
along the Aleutian Islands, standing in awe before the mon- 
arch altitudes of America and the unique glaciers of Alaska ; 
spending an hour with the Arctic explorers, we have thence sud- 
denly winged our way to the tropics, and basked in the rich 
scenery of the West Indies. Then, before leaving what we 
still call by force of habit " the New World," we have rambled 
through Mexico and ascended Popocatepetl. Across the ocean, 
Norway with its gloomy grandeur and all its weird fascina- 
tion has been brought near to us ; and we have gladly lingered 
around the sunnier slopes and the more romantic scenery of 
the Scottish Highlands. The Alps, best loved of all by poet, 
artist, and mountaineer, have been made familiar to those of 
us who may never hope to see them but with the mind's eye. 
Nor have we overlooked that grand old continent that we 
still call " the Mother." The mountain treasures of Asia have 
been brought before us. With reverential guides we have 
trodden the sacred hills of Palestine ; have visited the Isles of 
Japan, and looked into the extinct crater of the lofty Fusiyama, 
and returning to the mainland have scaled the heights of the 

We can hardly hope, in this direction, to surpass our record. 
Perhaps, with ampler means, we may be able to procure from 
eminent scientists courses of lectures, in addition, which, while 
of less general interest, might secure '^ fit audience though 
few ; " and in such cases quality of influence, in the long run, 
determines quantity of influence. And it becomes those of us 
who are most interested in the sanitary, social, and aesthetic 
aspects of the Club to bear in mind that its character and 



solidity most largely depend on its good, ficholailf work. We 
all owe a debt of gratitude to those of our number who, thoo^ 
heavily laden with their own work^ have done so mnch for the 
honorable standing we have in this field. 

The catholicity, the breadth, and the good fellowship which 
marks onr history angnrs well for oar oontinned prosperity 
and growth. Throngh the encouragement we give to a better 
knowledge and love <rf Nature we hope to do something to- 
wards healthier physical, mental, and spiritual lives. ^ The 
world,^ as has been well said, ^* is what we make it." To 
some it is a maiket-plaee, to some a woikshop, to some a 
playground, to some a school, to some a gallery of beauty, to 
some a temple. To the wisest and sanest man it is all of 
&ese. Let us confine our culture to no one side of our nature ; 
but as CJoethe tells us, ^ let us live in the whde." And in this 
spirit one can feel, with Browning, 

'* God moBt be glad one loves his world so much.'* 

Report of the Recording Secretary f6r 1888. 

The year shows a decrease in membership. The corporate 
members now number 715 ; the losses amounting to 78, and 
the new members numbering 73, the net loss has been 5. 
The Honorary and Corresponding Members number, respec- 
tively, 14 and 45, the same as one year ago ; in the list of 
Corresponding Members we record the resignation of Hon. 
Joseph P. Bradley and the accession of Mr. J. Scott Keltic. 
The Life Members number 43, — an increase of 6 ; 3 Life 
Members have deceased in previous years. The total mem* 
bership of the Club, Jan. 1, 1889, was 774. 

There have been held nine regular and three special meet- 
ings, and one field meeting, — thirteen in alL The average at- 
tendance has been 88. There were presented at these meetings 
six reports and twenty-two papers. The White Mountains 
have had five papers and the Colorado Rockies four ; while the 
Adirondacks, Alleghanies, Yellowstone Park, Maine, Texas, 


Calif onua, West Indies, Norway, Switierlaiid, India, and Japan 
have been represented. 

The field meeting was held at the Glen Honae, N. H., June 
SO to July 7. It was largely attended, and seireral interest- 
ing mountain climbs were taken. 

Excursions have been made to Jackson, N. H^ Indian Bock, 
Mass., Camden, Me., Moosilauke, N. H., Mt. Washington and 
Reeves Hill, Mass. 

The Outings have been continued during the year, the 
number taken being twenty-two. 

The Snow-shoe Section had twelve meets in the early part of 
the year, enjoying two suppers at Lexington and being several 
times entertained by members. The winter excursion afforded 
capital snow-shoeing. The membership is 48, but only 24 
have as yet obtained shoes. 

A section for field study has been organized with a member- 
ship of 71, and five field studies have been given. 

The animal social meeting was held Friday evening, Feb* 
ruary 10, at the Tremont House, and the attendance was 160. 

YoL V. No. 2 of Appalachia was published in June, and 
No. 8 will soon appear. 

Seferenoe is made to Ae reports of the Councillors for the 
work accomplished in their different departments. 

The general prosperity of the Club has continued during the 
year, although there are two respect in which an unfavorable 
showing is made. On the other hand there are two subjects 
upon which the Club deserves special congratulation. 

For the first time a net decrease in membership is recorded. 
Although this is probably due to the increase in the admission 
fee from three to five dollars, yet it must be said that the re- 
sult financially is not unfavon^le. It is specially unfortunate, 
however, that so many of the new members fail to retain their 
membership. So long as they remain in the Club, their an- 
nual assessments are an important source of income and en- 
able us to carry on our work. Nevertheless those members 
are more Tsluable who belong to the Club not merely for what 
they can get out of it, but for what they can do for it, however 
little that may be. Those members are the most valuable who 
can contribute from their money, time, or scientific training. 


And this brings me to the second point illustrating the de- 
siderata of the Club. 

The Appalachian Mountain Club was organized by scien- 
tists, and one of the most important branches of its work was 
that of topography. We have certainly done good work in this 
department, but not what we should have done ; and it is un- 
fortunate that those members who are best qualified for this 
work are unable to give time to it No blame attaches to any 
one ; it is simply the Club^s misfortune. We can afford to 
spend money each year upon map work, but that money is not 
adequate compensation for first-class ability. To combine 
with the money, we need some voluntary work from members 
who have the necessary scientific training. 

This observation leads me to the first point upon which the 
Club deserves special congratulation, — the redeeming feature 
of the year's work so far as the scientific life of the Club is 
concerned. I refer to the field studies originated and successs 
fully carried on by Professor W. H. Niles. From a very busy 
life he has managed to devote considerable time, that members 
might receive valuable instruction in regard to the most com- 
mon topographical features in the vicinity of Boston. This 
certainly is legitimate work of the Club, and the enthusiastic 
interest of the members proves that his e£Ports have been 

There remains for special mention the excellent work of the 
Councillor of Improvements, Professor F. D. Allen. The large 
amount of time spent by him in planning and superintending 
the construction of the Madison Spring Hut, combined with 
the generous subscription of members, proves that one of the 
chief objects of our Club — rendering the mountains more 
accessible — will never lack enthusiasm or financial support. 
Not only has the Club built the hut, but through the generosity 
of the Brown's Lumber Company of Whitefield, N. H., it holds 
the legal title to the site. Would that our real estate might in- 
crease, and enable the Club to become a preserver and protector 
of mountain scenery for the benefit of all mountain lovers ! 
Respectfully submitted, 


Recording Seerdafy. 


Report of the Correspondhtg Secretary for 1888. 

The Corre^K>nding Secretary has had so little to say at the 
meetings of the Club during the past year in regard to the 
administration of his office, that a somewhat detailed state- 
ment might now be expected of him ; but as his attention 
has been given for the most part to mere routine work, there 
is little of special interest to report. 

The changes in the list of Corresponding Societies are very 
few. The Adirondack Survey and the New York State 
Survey have been merged into one, under the title of the 
Adirondack and State Land Survey. Relations of exchange, 
which by some accident had been interrupted, have been 
resumed with the Smithsonian Institution. The Roman sec- 
tion of the Club Alpino Italiano has become our corre- 
spondent, and has sent its first two annuals for 1886 and 1887. 
These publications, by their high literary excellence and by 
the abundance and perfection of their illustrations, attest the 
enterprise of that section in its venture. The Rocky Moun- 
tain Club, having ceased to exist, has been dropped from 
our list of exchanges. 

Most of the correspondence of the Club has related to ex- 
change of publications, and has resulted in much benefit to 
us and to our correspondents, especially in the interchange 
of back numbers to complete volumes which had been left 
incomplete either by accidents of mail service or because the 
publication antedated the relations of exchange. Without 
desiring to make invidious distinctions, grateful mention may 
be made of the services of our Corresponding Member, Mr. 
R. H. Budden, of Rome, through whose kind offices we have 
secured fifteen of the earlier numbers of the ^^ BoUettino del 
Club Alpino Italiano." In this transaction the ties between 
that Club and ours have been strengthened by our gift to 
them of Osgood's ^^ White Mountains *' and Starr King's 
" White HiUs." 

Our Club has received invitations to attend various meet- 
ings of Alpine Clubs in Europe ; notably the annual meeting 
at Nice of the Club Alpin Fran^ais, the meeting at Rovereto 


of the Societik degli Alpinisti Tridentini, and the celebration 
at Turin of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the foundation 
of the Club Alpino Italiano. It was not practicable for our 
Club to be represented at either of these meetings. If mem- 
bers intending to visit Europe would notify the Correspond- 
ing Secretary of their purpose, arrangements might sometimes 
be made for the representation of this Club more frequently 
than has been customary. 

The ^^ Magyarorsz&gi Karp&t-egyesiilef and the ^^Deutscher 
und Osterreichischer Alpenverein" have each asked us for 
an exchange of Club badge and membership ticket to add to 
collections of such objects in their Alpine museums. In each 
case the ticket was sent. The circumstance suggests the 
question whether such a display in our own rooms might not 
be of sufficient interest to warrant the expense and labor of 

The library, for which ample space seemed to be provided 
when it was moved to its present quarters, has grown to such 
an extent that additional shelf-room is greatly needed at 
once, as nearly one third of the books are out of sight behind 
the rest. By a generous appropriation of the Council, 52 
volumes were bound and thus brought into a more convenient 
form for use. Of the 474 volumes or parts of volumes added 
during the year, 5 were bought, 85 received as gifts from 
members and others, and 884 received from regular ex- 
changes. A detailed statement of these accessions and of the 
sources from which they came is appended to this report. 
Any one to whose courtesy the Club is indebted for books or 
maps, finding proper credit is not given him in this statement, 
will confer a favor by reporting such omission to the Cor- 
responding Secretary. 

To our collection of maps 69 have been added during the 
year ; 62 of these, 19 of which are of parts of Massachusetts, 
came of the United States Geological Survey. The whole 
collection has been re-arranged, and an index made. The 
number of sheets is 614. 

The record of books taken from the library by members 
for home reading shows almost exactly the same number of 
withdrawals as in 1887. 


As the general management of the Club-room was placed 
in the hands of the Corresponding Secretary at the beginning 
of this year, it became a part of his duty to see that by pro- 
viding custodians the room should be open daily at certain 
advertised hours. The thanks of the Club are due to those 
members who have kindly volunteered their services for this 



Conresponditug Secretary. 


From Corresponding Societies. 

Academy of Natural Scieneet {Philadelphia), — Proceedings 1887, Part 
3; 1888, Parts 1 and ^. 

American Geographical Society. — Bulletin, 1886* 2; 1887, 4 & Suppl. ; 1888, 
1, 2, 3, 4. 

American Museum of Natural History. — Annual Reports, L-XII., XV., 
XVL,XVn., 1887-88. 

California Academy of Sciences. — Bulletin, 1887, 8. 

Cambridge Entomological Society. — Psyche, Vol. V. 141-152. 

Essex InstUute. — Bulletin, Vol. XIX. 4-12. 

Geological and Natural History Survey of Canada. — Catalogue of Cana- 
dian Plants, Parts 3, 4 ; Map of a portion of the Southern Interior of 
British Columbia; Summary Report to Dec. 31, 1887; Annual Report, 
1886, with maps. 

Geological and Natural History Survey of Minnesota. — Annual Report, 
XV.; Bulletin, 2, 3,4. 

Lick Observatory. — Publications, Vol. I. 1887; Panorama of the Country 
near Lick Observatory. 

New Hampshire Historical Society. — Proceedings, 1884-88. 

Smithsonian Institution. — Annual Report, 1885, II. 

Torrey Botanical C/uft. — Bulletin, Vol. XV. 1-5, 7-12. 

United States Geological Survey. — Mineral Besources of the United States, 
1886. 59 atlas sheets. 

United States War Department. — Annual Report of the Chief Signal Offi- 
cer, 1886; 1887, Part 1. Tornado Circular No. 1 ; U. S. Expedition to 
Lady Franklin Bay and Grinnell Land, Vol. I. 

Associacid d^ Excursions Catalana. — Buttletf, Any X. 109-111; Any XL 

112-120. Meteorologia Popular Catalana. 
Club Alpin Beige. — BuUetin, Vols. I., H. 9, 10, 11. 


Club Alpin Fran^au.^ (Directum Centrale) Annuaire, 1887; Bulletin, 

1887, 9; 1888, 1-8. (Section de Sa&ne-^-Loire) Bulletin, 7-11. (Seeti&n 

du SudOueMt) Balletin, 22, 28. 
Cltdf Alpino Italiano. — (Direzione Centrale) Cronaca dal 1883 al 1888. 

Bollettino, 1, 2, 6, 7, 12, 14-16, 21-26, 27, 28. Rivista, Vol. VI. 12; 

VII. 1-11. (Sezime di Roma) Annnario, 1887. 
Club Alpin Suisse. «- (ComiU' CentraT) Jahrboch, XXIII. (Section Gene- 

voise) L'£cbo des Alpes, 1887, 4; 1888, 1, 2, 3. 
Deutscher und Osiemeichischer Alpenterein — Mittheilungen, 1885, 1-12; 

1887, 24; 1888, 1-6, 7-24; Zeitschrift, Vol. XIX. 1888. 
Den Norske Turist/orening. — Irbog, 1887. 
Magyarorszdgi Karpdt-egyesulet, — Jahrbuch, XV. 1888; Wegweiaer durch 

die Ungariaehen Karpathen. 
Osterreichischer Touristen-Club. — Oaterreichische Touristen-Zeitung, 

VII. 24; VUL 1-20, 22-24. 
SiebenbHrgischer Karpathenverein. — Jahrbuch, VIII. 
Societa Alpina delle GiuUe. — Atti e Memorie, 1888-87. 
Societa degli Alpinisii Tridentini.— Annnario, XIIL 1886-87. 

Geographisehe Gesdhchafi (Greifewald). — Jahresbencht III. 1. 
GeselUchaJifUr Erdkunde (Berlin). — Bd. XIV. 8-10; XV. 1-9. 
Imp, Russkoye Geographitcheskoye Obshtschestvo. — Izviestiya, XXIII. 6; 

XXIV. 1,2. Otchet. 1887. 
Kais,'kSnigliche Geographisehe GeseUschaft. — Mittheilungen, 1887. 
Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap. — Tijdschrift, Ser. II. Ded. V. 

Meded. 1-6 ; Meer uitg. Artik. 1, 2. 
Royal Geographical Society. — Proceedings, X. 1-12. 
Scottish Geographical Society. — Magazine, Vol. IV. 1-12. 
Sociedad Geograjica (Madrid).— Boletin, Tomo XX. 1; XXTII. 3-6; 

XXIV. 1-6; XXV. 1,2. 
Sociedade de Geographia (Lisbon). — Boletim, 7* Ser. 1-10. 
Societe de Geographie Commerciale (Bordeaux). — Bulletin, 1887, 4, 6-8, 

10, 12-14, 16, 17, 19, 21, 23, 24; 1888, 6-22. 
Societe de Geographie Commerciale (Paris). — Bulletin, Tome X. 2-7. 
Society de Geographie de Totir*. — Revue, 1888, 1-7. 
Societii Geografica //a/iana. —Bollettino, Ser. II. Vol. IX. 12; X. 6; 

Ser. in. Vol. I. 1-11. 
Socieid Royale de Geographic d'Anvers. — Bulletin, Tome XII. 3-5; 

XIII. 1, 2. 
Society Khediviale de Geographie. ^BuWeiAn, Ser. 11, 12; III. 1. 
VereinJUr Erdkunde (Leipsio). — Mittheilungen, 1887. 
Verein der Geographen an der Universii&t Wien. — Bericht iiber das Xlll. 


Other Exchanges. 

Kais.-kbn. naturhistorischen Hof museums (Vienna) Annalen, Band III. 2. 
Revue G^ographique Internationale, Nos. 142-162. 


Teikoku Daigaku (Imperial Univenity, Tokio), Calendar for 1887-68 ; 

Journal of the College of Science, Vol. 11. 1-4 
Outing, Vol. Vni.-XI. 
White Monntun Echo, Vol. XL 


The Muir Glacier. 6. F. Wright. Gift of Author. 

The Shaybacks in Camp. S. J. and /. C. Barrows. Gift of Authors. 

Notes and Observations of the Kwakiool People of Yancouyer Island. 

G. M. Dawson. Gift of Author. 
Meteorological Observations during Solar Eclipses made in Russia. 

W. Upton and A. L. Rotch. Gift of Author. 
Lake Winnipesaukee. Julia Noyes Sticbfiey. Gift of Author. 
Lyrics on Freedom, Love, and Death. G. F. Cameron. Gift of 

A. Moore. 
Publications of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and of its 

Officers, 1882-1887. Gift of J. R. Edmands. 
Storm of March 11-14, 1888. W. Upton. Gift of Author. 
Tavole per la mianra delle Altezze col Barametro, etc F. Salino. Gift 

of Author. 
Sull' utilita pratica del Eiooveri AlpinL R, H. Budden. Gift of 

Guida Itinerario alle Prealpi Bergamasche. Gift of the Section of 

Bergamo, C. A. I. 
Les Aiguilles du Gouter et d'Argenti^re. E. A. Martel, Gift of Author. 
Auvergne et C^ennes. E. A. Martel, Gift of Author. 
IjS Causse Noir et Montpellier-le-Vieux. E. A. Martel. Gift of Author. 
Meteorological Stations on the Sonnblick and Sentis. A. L, Rotek. Gift 

of Author. 
Scrambles among the Alps and down the Rhine. Edward Whymper and 

Lady Blanche Murphy. Gift of C. W. Burrows. 
Glaciation of British Columbia. G. M. Dawson. Gift of Author. 
Science, Nos. 257-308. Gift of Publisher. 
New England Meteorological Society. BuUetm, Nos. 88^9. Gift of 

Afpalachia. —Vol. V. 1, 2. 
Twelve Photographs of Lake Chesuncook and Neighborhood. /. S, 

Hutchmgs. Gift of Author. 
Map of Essex County, Mass. Gift of /. S, Hutchings. 
Four County Maps oi Maine. Gift of J. M. Gould. 
Map of Tennessee. Gift of State Bureau. 
Map of Cheshire County, N. H. Gift of W. H. Cadet. 
Sketches from Mt Ktaadn. S. M. Barstow. Gift of Author. 
Abstract of the Proceedings of the Society of Arts. Gift of Massachu- 
setts Institute of Technology. 

1 Names of Club members are in italics. 

346 treasurer's report. 


Alpine Journal. 

History of the White Monntaina. Lucy Crawford. 

In the Wilderness. Charles Dudley Warner. 

Book of Berkshire. C. W. Bryan. 

Middlesex Fbra. L. L. Dame and F. S. Collins. 

Treasurer's Report for 1888. 


Cash on hand, Jan. 1, 1888 S(MH).64 

Life-Memberships: Mrs. HoUingsworth, Miss R. HoUings- 
worth, Miss F. A. Smith, Mr. E. E. Norton, Mr. Joseph 

Lamb, Mr. Charles A. Cutter, — 6 at $aO 180.00 

Admission fees : 

From 71 new members at $5 9355.00 

Assessments from 39 members for 1887. 
•* «« 512 " «* 1888. 

«« ft 4 t« cc 1839, 

Total . . 555 at93 1,665.00 

Sales of AFPAI.ACHIA 67.06 

Interest on Treasurer's deposits 42.52 

Donations : 

For Club Room 9210.00 

For Madison-Spring Hut 892.00 

For Middlesex Fells Map 10.00 

For Appalachia illustrations .... 142.76 


From Committee on Annual Reception, balance . . 9.20 

From Committee on Field Meetings and Excursions, 

balance over expenses 45.94 


Total Income $3,780.12 


To Trustees of the Permanent Fund, for balance of 
appropriation by the Club, June 9, 1886 . . . $100.00 

For 6 Life-Memberships 180.00 


To Trustees of the Reserve Fund, appropriation by the 

Council 100.00 

Amount carried forvford 9380.00 

tbsasubsr's skfobt. 347 

AmtnaUhr^mgkt forward •S80.00 

Postage and Btotioiierf 9202.88 

Pimtiiig and adfertiamg 271.57 

Clerical aenriees 49.50 

Ezpenaesofmeetiiiga 1».45 


VoL V. No. 1 tO-OO 

DeUvciy VoL V. Na 1 40.75 

Index VoL IV. 12.00 

1,200 copies VoL V. No. 2 407.76 

BeUveiy VoL V. No. 2 28.76 

VoL V. No. 3 41.72 


Library : 

Booka t0.20 

Binding, caie, etc 111.86 



Bent 0400.00 

Caie» etc 56.12 


Department of Alt 8.82 

D^wrtment of ImprofTemonti : 

Forpatha 840.00 

For Madison-Spring Hat 739.55 


Total nmtine expenaea 2,570.04 

Total paymenta 02,939.04 

Cash on hand at doae of the year 821.08 


The account of the Committee on Field Meetings and Ex- 
cursions shows that they received daring the year 1888, from 
members and friends who joined in the Club Excursions, the 
sum of $2,096.73. They paid expenses, mainly for railroad 
fares, $2,050.79, leaving a surplus of #45.94. 

Tlie payments for 1888 include two bills amounting to 
$127.12, which belong in the expenses for 1887, as stated in 
the Treasurer's Report a year ago. 

A new number of Appalachia is nearly ready to be issued, 
and it was hoped to have it paid for, and the cost put into this 
Report This would have reduced the balance of cash on 
hand very much. It has been found impossible to have it 

348 treasurer's report. 

ready in time, and it will have to go into the coming yearns 

The amount stated as received for interest, $42.52, was 
entirely for interest on the deposit of cash in the treasury. 
The interest on the Permanent and Reserve Funds is ex- 
plained in the Report of the Trustees, and has not been en- 
tered in the Treasurer's books. 

In connection with the item of interest on treasury cash, 
it may be well to call attention to the importance of early 
payment of dues. The yearly assessment, according to the 
By-Laws, is due at the beginning of the year; and though 
the amount is small for each member, the aggregate, if paid 
promptly, is put on interest in advance of disbursements, and 
is a source of profit to the Club, helping to meet the increas- 
ing expenses. 

Examination of the files of Appalachia shows that at dif- 
ferent times hopes have been expressed by ofiicers of the Club 
that our excellent organization and arrangement for the care 
and use of money would induce friends to endow the Club 
with means to assist in its work. No funds for that purpose 
have yet been donated or bequeathed. But in the mean time 
the Club has shown a determination to help itself ; we have 
been told ^^ that those who want help must help Uiemselves 
first ; " and it is a subject for congratulation that the amount 
held in Permanent and Reserve Funds has increased so 
much. The Funds are now in a position to encourage us to 
continue the careful management that has conduced to their 
accumulation. If the interest on the Funds is allowed to 
remain witii them^ it will, with the Life-Membership payments, 
help materially to make a sum that will be very useful in the 
future. The interest is so small now that you can afford not 
to spend it ; it is large enough to help make a fund of which 
the income will be worth spending by and by. 

The Council therefore has voted to add the interest to the 
Funds ; and they ask you to confirm their action in adding'the 
interest to the Permanent Fund, and also an additional appro- 
priation of $100. 

As stated, no donation of a large amount has been received, 
but widespread interest in the Club enterprises has been 



shown by donations of moderate sums from a large number 
of members and friends. The donations for the year have 
been, for the Room, $210 ; for the Club Hut, $892 ; and for a 
new Map of Middlesex Fells, $10. These sums have been 
paid by ninety-nine individuals, of whom six were not Club 

The Table showing the Receipts and Payments during the 
whole existence of tlie Club, which was omitted last year, is 
appended to tliis report. 

Respectfully submitted, 



The undenigned hare examined the aocounts of John E. Alden, Treasurer of 
the Appalachian Mountain Clnb, for the year 1888, and to Jan. 8, 1889, and 
find them properly kept and correctly baUcnced, with satisfactory Touchers for 
all payments. The cash in hands of the Treasurer amounts to 9821.08. 

Thomas T. Woodruff, j 

D. L. ViLBS, > Auditors, 

A. 8U.W7V Ltvdi, ) 

BosTOK, Jan. 8, 1889. 







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1000 jOO 




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I.0(V' 11220,117 


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00 no 





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304.20 aimsi 


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2205 S2 





Report of the Trustees of the Permanent and Reserve 
Funds for 1888. 

The Tnistees of the Appalachian Mountain Clab report to 
the Clab, as follows : — 

On hand. Permanent Fund. 

Janaary 8. Deposited in Suffolk Savings Bank 

Book No. 100,753 11,172.00 

Interest accrued and added to same, to 

October, 1888 46.94 

Deposited in Provident Insti- 
tution for Savings, Book No. 

118,265 9828.00 

March 24. Received from Treasurer 
A. M. C, 4 Life-Member- 
ships 120.00 

Received interest to January, 
1888 6.66 

Amounts carried fonoard .... $454.56 $1,218.94 


Anumnts brougM forward .... W64.56 |1,218.94 
July 11. Received from Treasurer A. 
M. C, 1 Life-Membership 
for 930, and 9100 appropri- 
ated by Club, June 0, 1886 . 180.00 
January 4. Beoeived from Treasurer A. 

M. C, 1 Life-Membership . 80.00 


Leaving amount to credit Permanent 

Fund this date 11,838.50 

Reserve Fund. 
January. Sum loaned to Massachusetts Loan and 

Trust Co , . 11,000.00 

April 20. Received interest on above 40.00 

Loaned to Massachusetts Loan and 
Trust Co. on note, April 20, 1888^ 
at 4 per cent. 
January 4. Received from Treasurer A. M. C, 

appropriated by Council .... 100.00 
Loaned to Massachusetts Loan and 
Trust Co. at 4 per cent. 

Leaving sum to credit of Reserve Fund 

thUdate 91|140.00 

The above-mentioned items of interest received on the Per- 
manent Fnnd, amounting to $63.60, have not yet been voted 
as a part of the Fund, but are included in a vote proposed to 
be passed at the Annual Meeting. 

Chas. W. Eennard, \ 
Wm. H. Nilbs, > Trustees. 

A. E. SCOTF, ) 

BosTOir, Jan. 6, 1889. 


Prooeedlngs of the Club. 

Jane 30-Jaly 7. — Twentj-third Field Meeting. 
Held at the Glen House, White Mountaine, N. H. 

On Friday evening, July 7, a meeting was held in the hotel parlor, with 
President Soott in the chair. The President gave a resume of the excur- 
sions of the week. 

A paper presented bf Miss L. A. Putnam at the June meeting in Bos- 
ton, «' The Crater of Mt. Misery at St KitU " (see p. 200), was read, in 
the absence of the author, by Mr. F. W. Freeborn. 

A paper written by Miss M. M. Pychowska, *' Two in the Alpine Pas- 
tures," was read by Miss M. A. J. Frothingham. (See p. 184.) 

Miss Frothingham continued with an account of iixe adveotures of the 
party which had eneamped on Imp Mountain the night of July 3; and 
Mr. 6. C. Mann, with an account of the trip to Huntington's Bavine. 
(See p. 242.) 

Mr. B. F. Curtis presented a water-color of Mt. Kearsarge in autumn, 
— a gift to the Club of the artist, Mr. W. H. Peek. The thanks 
of the Club were voted to Mr. Peek for his kindness, and to Mrs. Bob- 
erts, of the Glen House, for her attention to tibe eomfort and entertain- 
ment of the Club. 

October 10, 1888. —Ninety-fifth Corporate Meeting. 
Vice-President Curtis in the chair. 

Ninety persons were present. The records of the last regular meeting 
were read and approved. The candidates for membership nominated at 
the last meeting, four in number, were elected. Fifteen nominations 
were presented. 

Mr. R. B. Lawrence described ascents of Mt. Franklin, near El Paso, 
Texas; and Wilson's F^ak, near Pftsadena, Southern Calif omia. The 
former was short and easy, and the view extensive and very clear. An 
excellent path ascended Wilson's Peak part way, and the views were ex^ 
tensive and beautiful. Catalina and other islands rose from a sea of fog 
which hid the view of the Ftoific Ocean. The last part of the climb was 
somewhat difficult on account of brush. The ascent was made on the 
front side of the mountain. 

Professor C. £. Fay read a paper entitled <' The Ascent of Bit. Shavano, 
Colorado." With the aid of a map, Mr. Fay traced his route in Colorado 
and Utah, and located the mountains climbed by himself and his com- 
panion, Mr. J. Rayner Edmands. The ascent of Shavano was made from 
Maysville, and the round trip took fourteen hours. (See p. 236.) 


Notember 14, 1888. — Ninety-sixth Corporate Meeting. 
President Soott in tlie chair. 

Sixty persons were present. The records of the last meeting were read 
and approved. The candidates for membership nominated at the last meet- 
ing, fifteen in number, were elected^ Ten nominations were presented. 

The Recording Secretary mentioned the publication by Mr. £. R. 
Howe, of a ** Souvenir of Middlesex Fells,'' consisting of twelve litho- 
graphic views. 

^"esident Scott announced that the Brown's Lumber Company, of 
Whitefield, N. H., had deeded to the Club a lot of land at Madison 
Spring, between Mts. Madison and Adams, upon which the Club Hut 
had been built the past season. The deed was read. Upon motion of 
Professor Fay, it was voted that the thanks of the Appalachian Mountain 
Club be extended to the Brown's Lumber Company for their generous 
gift. It was also voted that the deed be recorded in Coos County, New 

Professor Frederic D. Allen presented his report as Councillor of Im- 
provements. (See p. 248.) He gave the history of the project of build- 
ing a stone hut at Madison Spring, and described the house itself. Work 
done upon paths in various sections of the mountains was also mentioned. 

Rev. E. F. Merriam described his ascent of Eagle Rock in the Alle- 
ghany Mountains. The characteristics of the central section of the 
Appalachian system, and the attractions of the Deer Park region were 
dwelt upon. Eagle Rock is the highest point of Great Backbone Moun- 
tain, and perhaps of the AUeghanies. 

A short account by Mr. Charles Lamed of his trip to Jamaica and his 
ascent of Port Royal Mountain, was read by the Recording Secretary. 
The beautiful scenery and the attractions of the mountain region were 

After the meeting adjourned, a plaque representing a mountain scene 
in the valley of Geneva (in Rendena), Italy, the work of Professor Eraclio 
Minozzi, was presented by him to the Club. 

December 10, 1888 (Evening). -^ Special Meeting. 
Vice-President Curtis in the chair. 

One hundred and twenty-five persons were present. 

Mr. F. W. Freeborn presented a paper entitled '* Some Adirondack 
Paths." A large amount of information, specially valuable to those who 
vWt the Keene Valley, was given, and the paper was illustrated with 
nearly fifty beautiful lantern views. (See p. 222.) 

A paper by Mr. F. H. Chapin, entitled «' The Ascent of Mt. Tpsilon, 
Colorado," was read by Professor C. E. Fay. The mountain and the 
views were described, and several incidents of the trip related. The 
paper was finely illustrated by views taken by Mr. Chimin. (See p. 175.) 

Upon motion of the Recording Secretary, it was .voted to request the 



President to appoint a committee to nominate a list of of&oen for the 
coming year, a committee to audit the books of the Treasurer, and a 
committee to arrange for the annual reception. 

December 19, 1888. — Ninety-seventh Corporate Meeting. 
President Scott in the chair. 

Forty persons were present. The records of the last regular and spe- 
cial meetings were read and approved, l^ne candidates for membership 
nominated at the last regular meeting were elected. Six nominations 
were presented. 

The thanks of the Club were voted to Professor Eraclio Minozzi for the 
gift of a plaque representing a mountain scene in the valley of Genova, 

Mr. J. Ritchie, Jr., presented his report as Councillor of Art, showing 
that several works of art had been presented to the Club during the year, 
and good progress had been made in collecting photographs taken by 
Club members. (See p. 232.) 

Mr. F. O. Carpenter presented his report as Councillor of Exploration, 
referring to work done in the White Mountains and in Colorado. (See 
p. 234.) 

The report of the Committee on Field Meetings and Excursions was 
also presented. (See p. 257.) 

A paper by Mr. E. B. Cook, entitled « Exploration of the Little River 
Mountains " (see p. 194), was read by Mr. Curtis. In the remarks which 
followed, the desirability of retaining the names *' Mts. Thompson and 
Hastings " was questioned by several and defended by no one. 

A paper by Mr. W. H. Peek, entitled <* Mill Mountain, Peaked Hill, 
and Green's Ledge'* (see p. 215), was also presented; and several fine 
sketches by the writer, showing the views from Green's Ledge and other 
points, were exhibited. 

Several letters of botanical interest, written by Mrs. F. H. Chapin 
from the Adirondacks, were read by Miss J. C. Clarke. Professor C. E. 
Fay followed with some interesting remarks concerning the writer of the 
letters, whose decease took place in December last. 

The President announced the appointment of the following committees: 
Nominating Committee, — Mr. S. E. D. Currier, Mr. Cornelius Welling- 
ton, Miss Ellen L. Sampson, Miss Lucy H. Symonds, Mr. Byron Groce; 
Auditing Committee, — Mr. T. T. Woodruff, Mrs. D. L. Viles, Mr. 
A. S. Lynde; Reception Committee, — Mr. Byron Groce (Chairman), 
Mr. and Mrs. Oliver L. Briggs, Mr. A S. Parsons, Miss M. A. Knowles, 
Mrs. J. H. Thorndike, Mr. W. S. Rumrill. 

January 9, 1889. — Ninety-eighth Corporate (Annual) Meeting. 

President Scott in the chaii: 

Eighty persons were present. The records of the last meeting were 
read and approved. .Six candidates for membership, nominated at the 


last meeting, were elected. Mr. Arnold Hague, of the United States 
Geological Sarvey, was nominated for Corresponding Membership. Five 
nominations for Corporate Membership were presented. 

The annual reports of the Recording and Corresponding Secretaries, 
the Treasurer, and the Trustees, \i^ere presented. Voted, that they be 
accepted and placed on file. (See pp. 338, 341.) 

The report of the Auditors was presented and accepted. 

The subject of ratifying the following votes of the Council was then in- 
troduced: — 

(1) To appropriate to the Permanent Fund all interest on said fund 
which has accumulated during the year 1888. 

(2) To appropriate to the Permanent Fund 9100.00 from the surplus 
in the treasury. 

The votes were taken up separately, discussed by members, and both 
were passed without opposition. 

Mr. S. £. D. Currier, Chairman of the Committee on Nominations, was 
called upon for his report. After some explanatory remarks, he presented 
the following list: President, Robert C. Pitman; Vice-President, Gard- 
ner M. Jones; Recording Secretary, Rosewell B. Lawrence; Corresponding 
Secretary, Frank W. Freeborn; Treasurer, John E. Alden; Councillors: 
Natural History, Miss Julia C. Clarke; Topography, Alfred E. Burton; 
Art, John Ritchie, Jr.; Exploration, Frank O. Carpenter; Improve- 
ments, Frederic D. Allen; Trustee of the Permanent and Reserve Funds 
for three years, Rest F. Curtis. 

The balloting for officers resulted in the unanimous election of those 
nominated, sixty-two ballots being cast. 

The President and Vice-President elect not being present, Mr. Scott 
continued in the chair. 

Mr. Warren Upham presented a paper entitled ** Ascents of Camel's 
Hump and Lincoln Mountain, Vermont." A careful description of the 
mountains was given, including geographical features; the views were 
described, and several specimens of the rock exhibited. (See p. 319.) 

Mr. George L. Chandler presented a paper on the ** Sandwich Moun- 
tains, New Hampshire." Descriptions of the ascents of Sandwich Dome 
and Chocorua were given, and the many attractions of the region were 
dwelt upon. 

February 4, 1889 (Evening). — Ninety-ninth Corporate Meeting. 
President Pitman in the chair. 

The President, in assuming the chair, thanked the Club for his election 
to the office, and said that at the next meeting he would offer some 
remarks upon the Club's work. 

One hundred and seventy-five persons were present. Mr. Arnold 
Hague, of the United States Geological Survey, was elected a Corre- 


spending Member. Five candidates for Corporate Membership, nomi* 
nated at the last meeting, were elected. Four nominations for Corporate 
Membership were presented. 

Mr. Boaewell B. Lawrence described <• A Thirty Days' Trip on Horse- 
back through the Yellowstone Park." The history of the exploration of 
the region was given briefly ; the topography was described, the rivers, 
lakes, mountains, geyser basins, and cafions being pointed out 'upon the 
map ; and the principal geological features were dwelt upon, explaining 
the causation of the interesting scenery and wonderful phenomena of the 
Park. The trip included ascents of Buusen's Peak, Electric Peak, Mt. 
Sheridan, Mt. Washburn, and Hoodoo Mountain. ^Mcial descriptions 
were given of the climb up the southeastern ridge of Electric Peak, and 
of the view from Sheridan, including the flne peaks of the Tetons. In 
addition to the points usually visited by tourists, the trip included the 
beautiful lakes, Shoshone, Heart, and Yellowstone, with their geyser 
basins; Lone Star Geyser, Kepler's Cascades, Tower Falls, the falls on 
the three forks of the Gardiner Biver, t^e petrified forest, the curious 
formations on the sides of Hoodoo Mountain, Cooke City Mining Camp, 
and the grand mountain scenery of Soda Butte Valley. Griizly bears, 
elk, black-tail deer, and smaller game were seen; trout were caught id 
abpndance, and a great variety of flowers was found. Some camping 
experiences were described in the paper, the theory of geyser action was 
touched upon, and tlie distinction drawn between the calcareous and sili- 
cious formations around the hot springs. Eighty-nine lantern views were 
shown, illustradng the falls, caflonsi hot springs, geysers, and other feat- 
ures of the Park. 

March 11, 1889 (Evening). ^ One Hundredth Corporate Meeting. 
President Pitman in the chair. 

One hundred and twenty-five persons were present. The records of 
the last meeting were read and approved. Four candidates for member- 
ship, nominated at the last meeting, were elected. Sixteen nominations 
were presented. 

A letter from Mr. Arnold Hague accepting Corresponding Membership 
was read. 

President Pitman gave an introductory address to the Club, *• Betro- 
spect and Prospect," reviewing the Club's history, and offering sugges- 
tions for its future. (See p. 331.) 

A report of the Winter Trip to Jackson was given by Mr J. Bitchie, Jr. 
Thorn, Tin, Black Mountain, and Carter Dome were ascended, and 
Tuckerman's Bavine visited. 

Mr. Bosewell B. Lawrence described the appearance of the Madison 
Spring Hut in winter, and the ascent of Mt. Adams, February 21, and 
of Madison, February 22. 


A letter from Mr. S. H. Scodder was presented, describing «n ascent 
of Mt. Greylock, in Adams, Mass , February 22, by Mr. W. B. Clarke, 
Mr. Scudder, and his son. 

April 17, 1880. — One Hundred and First Corporate Meeting. 
President Pitman in the chair. 

Fifty-five persons were present. Sixteen candidates for membership, 
nominated at the last meeting, were elected. Sixteen nominations were 

According to the notice upon the call for the meeting, the following 
amendments to the By-Laws came up for action and after remarks by 
the Recording Secretary, they were passed, seriatim, without opposition: 

No. 1. Amend Art. III. by changing ** at a regular meeting" to **on 
the call for a regular meeting," and by omitting ** within three months," 
so that the sentence shall read, ** They [nominations] shall be announced 
on the call for a regular meeting, and if approved by the Council, ballot- 
ing shall take place at the regular meeting next succeeding the approval." 

No. 2. Amend Art. III. by changing ** six " to ** two," so that it shall 
read, ** Each candidate . . . and subscribe assent to these By-Laws 
within two months after the election." ^ 

No. 3. Amend Art. XIII. by changing "six" to "four," so that it 
shall read, ^* But no assessment other than the admission fee shall be re- 
quired of any member during the ftmr months succeeding his election." 

No. 4. Amend Art. XIII. so that it shall read, *' Members whose assess- 
ments are unpaid on May first shall have notice of the fact sent to them by 
the Treasurer. Members whose assessments are unpaid on November Jirst, 
and who shall continue such neglect for one month after notice referring 
to this Article shall have been sent to them by the Treasurer, shall there- 
upon cease to be members," etc. 

The Councillor of Art reported the receipt of photographs from Mr. 
W. S. Fox, Mrs. George Parsons, Miss Rose Hollingsworth, and Mr. 
F. H. Chapin. 

Mr. Warren Upham presented a paper entitled ** Glaciation of Moun- 
tains in New England and New York." He gave the characteristics and 
limits of the continental ice-sheet of North America, and observations 
concerning its thickness in various parts of New England and New York. 
The drift and striae were discussed with reference to the five mountain 
masses, Rtaadn, and the White, Green, Adirondack, and Catskill Moun- 
tains. (See p. 291.) 

Mr. John E. Alden gave an account of his tramp over the Blue Hill 
Range, February 22, describing the beautiful views and the nature of the 
hills traversed. The walk took about eight hoars. 

358 OFFICERS FOR 1889. 

May 6, 1880 (Evening). — One Hundred and Second Corporate Meeting. 
President Pitman in the chair. 

One hundred and fifty persons were present. Sixteen candidates for 
membership, nominated at the last meeting, were elected. Eighteen 
nominations were presented. According to the notice upon the call for 
the meeting, the amendments to the By-Laws passed at the last meeting 
(7. v.) came up for final action. They were passed unanimously. 

Mrs. G. W. Thacher presented a paper entitled ** Alpine Flowers of 
Colorado." (See p. 284.) 

Professor Charles E. Fay presented a paper entitled *♦ Through San 
Luis Park to Sierra Blanca. (See p. 261.) Views of Sierra Blanca and 
other peaks of the Sangpre de Cristo range, with other characteristic Colo- 
rado scenes, were shown with the stereopticon after the reading of the 

Officers for 1889. 

Robert C. Pitman, Newton. 

Gardner M. Jones, Public Library, Salem. 

Recording Secretary. 
Rosewell B. Lawrence, 23 Court Street, Room 409, Boston. 

Corresponding Secretary. 
Frank W. Freeborn, 9 Park Street, Room 17, Boston. 

John E. Alden, 18 Post Office Square, Boston. 

, Councillors. 
Natural History, Julia C. Clarke, 505 Columbus Avenue, Boston. 
Topography, Alfred £. Burton, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 

Arty John Ritchie, Jr., Box 2725, Boston. 

Exploration, Frank O. Carpenter, 195 West Springfield Street, Boston. 
Improvements, Frederic D. Allen, Cambridge. 

Trustees of the Permanent Fund. 

William H. Niles. Rest F. Curtis. 

Charles W. Kennard. 



Members added since June 13, 1888, 


Hague, Arnold, Washington, D. C. 


Allen, Nathaniel T., West Newton, 

Ayeis, Miss Helen F., Rozbury. 

Bates, James H., Brooklyn, N. T. 
Berkele, Elmer F., New York City. 
Briggs, Albert W., Boston. 

Greorge, Edward A., Providence, 

R. I. 
Ginn, Edward, Boston. 

Hammett, William F., Newton. 
Hammett, Mrs. W. F., Newton. 
Harrigan, Miss Ellen M., Newton- 

Harvey, Miss Agnes, Rozbnry. 

Chadbonme, Mrs. F. M., Saco, Me. 

Cotter, James £., Boston. 

Crosby, Miss Mary P., Jamaica Harwood, Willard, Boston. 

pli^Q, Hastings, H. B., Boston. 

Curtis, Mrs. Franklin, Canton. Hersey, Miss Ada H., Roxbury. 

Cutter, Charles A.,i Boston. Hollingsworth, Mrs. Mark, Boston. 

Holmes, Miss Margaret, Boston. 

Erskine, Miss Margaret B., East Houghton, Miss Elizabeth G., Bos- 
Boston, ton. 

, Howland, William B., Cambridge. 

Farrell, Miss Carrie A., Boston. 

Fisher, Miss Jessie M., Newton. 

Fisher, O. M., Newton. 

Fiske, William P., Concord, N. H. 

Foster, John McGaw, Bangor, Me. 

Fox, Miss Kate W., Jaffrey, N. H. 

Fox, Walter S., Boston. 

Frame, Miss M. Lena, East Bos- 

Francis, Miss Yida Hunt, Phila- 

Freeborn, Mrs. F. W., Boston. 

French, Miss Cordelia J., Cam- 

French, Miss Estelle J., Cambridge- 

French, Mrs. Teresa I., Canton. 

Fuller, Miss E. W., West Newton. Malcombe, Mrs. S. M., Roxbury. 

Fuller, Miss Mary S., West New- Merrill, Mrs. Estelle M. H., No 
ton. Cambridge. 

1 The names of Life Members are printed in small capitals. 

Jenks, Miss Caroline E., Boston. 
Johnson, Benjamin N., Lynn. 
Johnson, Mrs. Benjamin N., Lynn. 

Kellen, William V., Jamaica Plain. 
Kilbum, Daniel W., Boston. 
Kilburn, Mrs. Daniel W., Boston. 
Knudsen, Augustus F., Boston. 

Lamb, Joseph, New York City. 

Lathrop, John, Boston. 

Laughlin, Miss Helen C, Jamaica 

Lawrence, Miss Elizabeth C, New- 

ton Centre. 
Lewis, Edwin J., Jr., Boston. 



Morse, Bliss Etta D., Boston. 
Mottet, Henry, New York City. 
Mndge, Frank N., Lynn. 

Needham, Miss Sarah J. C, Bos- 
Newhall, Lncian, Lynn. 
Nichols, Thomas P., Lynn. 

Otis, £. O., Boston. 

Piper, James R., Boston. 
Pitman, Frank C, Newton. 
Potter, Frederick W., Boston. 
Potter, Fred. W., Lynn. 
Potwin, William S., Chicago. 
Pray, James Sturgis, Boston. 
Pix)ctor, Miss Ellen O., Boston. 

Reid, Harry F., Cleveland, O. 
Richards, Eugene H., Boston. 
Rogers, Mrs. William B., Boston. 
Rounds, C. C, Plymouth, N. H. 
Rumrill, Miss Ellen W., Rozbury. 

Saville, Henry M., Cambridge. 
S^, Mile. Rosalie, Wellesley. 
Skinner, Miss E. P., Watertown. 

Spring, Miss Jennie S. , Cambridge- 

Starr, Frederick, New Haven, Conn. 

Stevens, Miss Mary Louise, Maiden. 

Stewart, Miss Charlotte E., Cam- 

Stewart, Miss Helen A., Cambridge. 

Stickney, Mrs. Julia N., Boston. 

Stone, Miss Maiy H., Salem. 

Sylvester, Mrs. Herbert F., New- 

Symonds, Walter £., Lynn. 

Talbot, Winthrop Tisdale, Boston. 
Temple, Miss Edith J., Neponset. 
Todd, Miss Mary A., Lynn. 
Trott, Mrs. M. B., Newton High- 
Turner, George S., Watertown. 

Whittier, Miss Laura W., Boston., 
Wildes, F. B., Boston. 
Willcox, Miss M. A., Wellesley. 
Williams, Allen Hamilton, Cam- 
Williams, Miss May, Rozbury. 
Woods, Miss Louie E., Cambridge. 
Wright, John H., Cambridge. 



Adirondack paths, 222. 

Adlrondackfl, excursion to, 162. 

Admission fee, 81, 82. 

Alaska, 165, 166, 254. 

Aldbn, J. £. Elected treasoier, 168, 

355; report of treasurer, 346; tramp 

over Blue Hill range, 357. 
Allen, F. D. Elected councillor of im- 

{>royements, 169, 355; report of council- 
or of improvements, 243. 
Alpine congress at Villach, 169. 
Alpine flowers of Colorado, 284. 
Alpine pastures, two in the, 184. 
Amendments to By-Laws, 81-83, 357, 358. 
Appalachian Mountain Club stations in 

White Mountains, 83. 
Art, reports of councillor of, 73, 232. 
Asnvbumskit Hill, excursion to, 255. 
Auditors' reports, 70, 142, 349. 
Ausable Chasm, excursion to, 163. 


Bald Mountain, excursion to, 257. 
Ballamtine, H. Trip in Himalayas to 

the land of Nepal and the Ghoorkas, 

Barstow, Miss S. M. Presents sketches, 

Barton, 6. H. Elected councillor of to- 

pographv, 168. 
Bbaman, W. M. Ascents of Mt. Carr, 

Benton range, 128, 151^ 166. 
Beverly Farms, excursion to, 256. 
Bibliography, 327. 
Blake, F. Great Bange walk from Glen 

House, 158. 
Blue Hill range, tramp over, 857. 
Breithom, ascent of the, 38. 
Bbooks, H. Topographical models, 84. 
Brown* s Lumber Co. Presents deed of 

land, 353. 
Burton, A. E. Reports of councillor of 

topography, 72, 144, 167 ; elected conn- 

ciDor of topography, 82, 865. 

Butterflies, White Mountains as a home 

for, 13. 
By-Laws, amendments to, 81-^, 357, 358. 


Camden, Me., excursion to, 257. 

Camel's Hump, ascent of, 819. 

Carpenter, F. O. Elected councillor of 
exploration, 82, 169, 355; recording seo- 
retan*, pro tem., 82-84; Benton range, 
128, '151, 166; report of councillor of 
exploration, 146, 284. 

Carter Notch, excursion to, 257. 

Chandler, G. L. Sandwich Mountains, 
N. H., 365. 

Chapin, F. H. First ascent of a glacier 
in Colorado, 1 ; ascents of the Breithom 
and Mont Blanc, 38; ascent of Mont 
Blanc, 83 ; ascent of Long*s Peak, 109 ; 
ascents in the Front range, Col., 169; 
Ypsilon Peak, 175; tnp to Sierra 
Blanca, 239; book notices, 327-329; 
presents photographs, 357. 

Chickerino, J. w., Jr. Alaska, 165, 

Chubevck, I. T. Report of councillor 
of improvements, 74, 155 ; elected coun- 
cillor of improvements, 82. 

Clarke, Miss J. C Elected councillor of 
natural history, 355. 

Colorado, first ascent of a glacier in, 1; 
alpine flowers of, 284. 

Colorado mountains from an astronomical 
standpoint, 165. 

Colorado River, Grand Cafion of, 83. 

Committee Reports : on nomination of 
officers, 82, 83, 168, 355; on field meet- 
ings and excursions, 159, 167, 253; on 
Summer School of Geodesy and Topog- 
raphy, 169; on winter excursions, 257, 

Committees Appointbd: to nominate 
oflicers, 166, 354; for annual reception, 
167, 354; audiUng, 167, 354. 

Cook, E. B. Mountains near New Zea- 
land Notch, 194. 

Correspondence. i9«« Exchanges. 



Corresponding memben, 81, 173, 865, 356. 

Corres(K>ndm^ secretarv, report for 1886, 
55; for 1887, 135; for 1888, 341. 

Councillor's Keports. See the different 
departments : Nfttunil History, Topog- 
raphy, Art, Exploration, Improvementa. 

Crater of Mt. Minerj-. St. Kitts, 200. 

Crawford House, held meeting at, 165, 
254; excursion to, 254. 

Crosby, W. O. Elevated potholes near 
Shelbume Falls, 83. 

Cunningham's and Abney's Pioneers of 
the Alps. 327. 

CuKTis, R. F. Elected vice-president, 
168; elected trustee, 855. 

Davis, Miss L. S. De Saussure Monu- 
ment, 169. 

Davis, W. M. Report of councillor of 
natural history, 71 ; meteorological ob- 
servations in White Mountains, 83; 
physicAl geography of New England, 

Dent's Above the Snow Line, 329. 

De Saussure, monument to, 169. 

DiMMOCK, G. Elected councillor of nat- 
ural history, 82, 168 ; report of council- 
lor of natural history', 143. 

Donations, 56, 57, 64, 74, 137, 139, 169, 
170, 172, 233, 345, 362, 353, 357. 

Dress, walking, for ladies, 28. 

Dubliu, excursion to, 254. 


Eagle Rock, Alleghany Mountains, ascent 
of, 353. 

Edmands, J. R. Topographical contri- 
butions, 121, 254. 

Elevated potholes near Shelbume Falls, 

Exchanges and correspondence, 55, 135, 

Excursions, season of 1886, 169 ; to Mid- 
dlesex Fells, 159 ; to Robin's Hill, 159; 
to Mt. Wachusett, 159; to Virginia, 160; 
to Mt. Rogers, 160; to White Sulphur 
Springs, 160; toMt. Kate, 160; to Warm 
Spring Mountain, 160; to Kanawha 
Falls, 160; to Natural Bridge, 160; to 
Rock Fish Gap, 160; to Humpback, 
160; to Lurav, 161; to Mt. Washing- 
ton, 161; to ilu Pleasant, 161, 162; to 
Tuckerman's Ravine, 161,257; to Mt. 
Clav, 161; to Mt. Jefferson, 161; to Mt. 
Adams, 161; to Mt. Madison, 161,258; 
to Glen EUis Falls, 161; to Crystal Cas- 
cade, 161; to Alpine Garden, 161; to 
Boott's Spur, 161; to Great Gulf, 162; 
to Castellated Ridge, 162; to the Adi- 
rondacks, 162 ; to Mt. Hurricane, 162; to 
Ausable Ponds, 162; to Mt. Marcy, 163; 
to Lake Placid, 163; to Whiteface, 163; 
toAusable Chasm, 163; toGroton, 163; 
to Mt Tobv. 164; to Nobscot Hill, 164: 
of season of 1887, 167, 253; of season of 

1888, 253; to Monk's Hill, 258; to 
Wissahissick Pond, 254; to Mt. Grace 
and Greenfield, Mass., 254; to Monad- 
nock and Dublin, 254; to Crawford 
House, 254; to Asnybumskit Hill, 255; 
to Mt. Ktaadn, 255; to Ship Rock, 256; 
to Beverlv Farms, 256; to Mt. Watatic, 
256; to Jackson, N. H.,257; to Indian 
Rock. 257; to Camden. Me.. 257; to 
Mt. lii.egunticook,257 ; to Bald Mountain, 
257; to Glen House, 257; to Carter 
Notch, 257; to Dome, 257; to Imp 
Mountain. 258; to Mt. Moriah, 258; to 
Mt. Moosilauke, 258; to ML Washing- 
ton, Mass., 258; to Mt. Everett, 258; 
to Reeves Hill, 259. 
Exploration, report of councillor of, 146, 

Fat, C. E. Report of corresponding sec- 
retary for 1886, 55 ; ascent of Mt. Sha- 
vano, 236; through San Luis Park to 
Sierra Blanca, 261. 

Fewkes, J. W. Trip to the Santa Bar- 
bara Islands, 166. 

Field meetings, at Crawford House, 
165, 254; at Glen House, 257, 352. 

Fox, W. S. Presents photographs, 357. 

Freeborn, F. W. Elected correspond- 
ing secretary, 168, 355; some Adiron- 
dack paths, 222; report of corresponding 
secretary for 1888, 341. 

Front Range, Col., ascents in the, 169. 

Frothingham, Bliss M. A. J. Club trip 
to Ktaadn, 166. 

Fuji San, ascent of, 168. 

Glaciation of mountains in New England 

and New York, 291. 
Glacier, in Colorado, 1 ; an Alaskan, 166. 
Glen House, field meetings at, 257, 352 ; 

excursion to, 257. 
Grand Canon of the Colorado, 83. 
Great Gulf, Whita Mountains, excursion 

to, 162. 
Great Range, walk from Glen House over, 

Green's Glacier regions of the Selkhk 

range, B. C, 328. 
Greenfield, excursion to, 254. 
Groton, excursion to, 163. 


HiGGiNSON, T. W. A June migration, 23. 

Himalayas, trip in the, 170. 

HoLDEN, E. S. Presents photograph, 170. 

HoLLiNGSWORTH, Miss R. Presents pho- 
tographs, 357. 

Hubbard, L. L. Alpine congress at Vil- 
lach, 169. 

Huntington's Ravine, 242. 

Htatt, a. Elected president, 82. 



Improvements, report of coancillor of, 74, 

155, 243. 
Indian Rock, excarsion to, 257. 


Jackson, winter trip to, 170, 257, 356; on 
snowshoes at, 208. 

Jamaica, trip to, 353. 

Java, rambles in, 84. 

Jones, 6. M. Report of treasurer, 68, 
140; elected treasurer, 82; elected vice- 
president, 355. 

Jotunheim Mountains, trip through, 170. 

June migration, a, 23. 


Kanawha Falls, excursion to, 160. 
Katahdin. See Mt. Ktaadn. 
Kennard, C. W. Elected trustee, 82, 

169 ; report of trustee, 142. 
Ktaadn. See Mt. Ktaadn. 
Ktaadn Basin, 26. 


Landscape and its interpretation, 85. 

Larned, C. Trip to Jamaica, 853. 

Lawrence, R. B. Mt. Ktaadn, 26, 85; 
report of recording secretary, 51, 134, 
338; elected recording secretary, 82, 
168, 355; improvements at Mt Ktaadn, 
156; ascent of Pike's Peak, 165 ; trip to 
Ktaadn, 167 ; dedicatory visit to ftladi- 
son-Spring Hut, 312, 356; ascents of Mt. 
Franklin, Texas, and Wilson's Peak, 
Cal., 352; trip through Yellowstone 
Park, 356. 

Library of the Club, 55, 135, 341. 

Lincoln Mountain, Vt., ascent of, 319. 

Little River Mountains, 194. 

Long*s Peak, ascent of, 109. 

Lowell., P. Visit to Shirane San, 87. 

Monk's Hill, excarsion to, 253. 

Mont Blanc, ascent of. 38, 83. 

Morse, £. S. Rambles in Java, 84. 

Mt. Adams, excursion to, 161; ascent of, 

: 356. 

Mt. Carr, two ascents of, 153. 

Mt. Everett, excursion to, 258. 

Mt Franklin, Texas, ascent of, 352. 

Mt. Grace, 85, 254. 

Mt. Ktaadn, 26,85; explorations in vicin- 
ity of, 147 ; improvements at, l56 ; ex- 
cursion to, 166, 167, 255. 

Mt. Madison, excursion to, 161, 258 ; as- 
cent of, 356. 

Mt. Marcy, excursion to, 163. 

Mt. Megunticook, excursion to, 257. 

Mt. Miserv, 200. 

Mt Monaanock, excursion to, 254. 

Mt. Moosilauke, excursion to, 258. 

Mt. Rogers, excursion to, 160. 

Mt. Shavano, ascent of, 236. 

Mt. Sinai, 84. 

Mt. Toby, excursion to, 164. 

Mt. Wachusett, excursion to, 159. 

Mt. Washington, Mass., excursion to, 258. 

Mt Washington, N. H., excursion to, 161. 

Mt. Watatic, excursion to, 256. 

Mt. Whiteface, excursion to, 163. 

Mummy Mountain, ascent of glacier on, 1. 


Natural Bridge, Va., excursion to, 160. 

Natural History, reports of councillor of, 
71, 143. 

New England, physical geography of, 

New Zealand Notch, mountains near, 194. 

NiLKs, W. H. Elected trustee, 82; re- 
port of trustee, 142. 

Nobscot Hill, excursion to, 164. 


Officers for 1887, 82, 86; for 1888, 168, 

169,172; for 1889, 355, 358. 
Outings, 164, 256, 259. 


Madison-Spring Hut, 171, 243, 312, 353, 

Mann, 6. C. Excursions of season of 
1886, 159 ; excursions of season of 1887, 
167,253; trip to Huntington's Ravine, 
242 ; excursions of season of 1888, 253. 

May walk, 159, 254, 259. 

Mkmdeks, dropped, 81, 82; Correspond- 
ing, 81, 173, 355, 356, 359; list of, 173, 

Merriam, E.F. Raymond's Ledge. Weare, 
N. H., 84; ascent of Eagle Rock, Alle- 
ghany Mountains, 353. 

Meteorological observations in White 
Mountains, 83. 

Middlesex Fells, excursion to, 159. 

MiNozzi, Eraclio. Presents plaque, 853. 

Parsonb, Mrs. 6. Presents photog^phs, 

Paths, 74, 155, 158, 243; list of. 80. 
Peek, W. H. Exploration of Pilot range, 

SO, 215 ; presents water-color, 352. 
Permanent Fund, 142. 
Petra, city of, 84. 
Philrrick, E. S. Mt. Sinai and the city 

of Petra, 84. 
Pickering, E. C. Colorado mountains 

from an astronomical standpoint, 165. 
Pike's Peak, 83, 165. 
Pilot range, exploration of, 30, 215. 
Pitman, R. C. Elected vice-president, 

82; address of the president: Retrospect 

and prospect, 331; elected president, 




Port Royal Bfountaio, Mcent of, 853. 
Proceedimos of the Club, 81, 165. 852. 
Putnam, Miss L. A. Crater of Mt. Mia- 

err, St. Kittn, 200. 
Ptchowska, Mrs. L. D. Walking-dresa 

for ladies, 28. 
Pychowska, Miss M. M. Two in tlia 

alpine pastures, 184. 


Raymond's I-«dge, Weare, N. H., 84. 

Recording veeretary, report for 1886, 51; 
for 1887, 134; for 1888, 338. 

Reeves Hill, excursion to, 259. 

Report of auditors, 70, 142, 349. 

Report of corresponding secretary for 1886, 
55; for 1887, 135; for 1888, Sii, 

Report of recording secretary for 1886, 
51; for 1887, 134; for 1888, 338. 

Report of treasurer for 1886, 68 ; for 1887, 
140; for 1888, 346. 

Report of trustees for 1887, 142; for 1888, 

Reports of councillors. See the different 
oepartmentA : Natural History, Art, Ex- 
ploration, Improvements, Topography. 

Reserve Fund, 142. 

Retrospect and prospect, 831. 

Ritchie, J., Jr. Mt. Grace, 85; elected 
councillor of art, 168, 355; winter trip 
to Jackson, 170, 356; on snow-shoes at 
Jackson, 208; report of councillor of 
art, 232. 

Robin's Hill, excursion tcL 159. 

Ryder, Miss A. H. Yellowstone Nar 
Uonal Park, 171. 

Saxdbbson, C. W. Report of oonncillor 

of art, 73; elected councillor of art, 82. 
Sandwich Mountains, N. H., 355. 
San Luis Park to Sierra Blanca, 261. 
Santa Barbara Islands, trip to, 166. 
Scott, A. E. Elected trustee, 82; report 

of trustee, 142 ; elected president, 168. 
Scudder, S. H. White Mountains as a 

home for butterflies, 13. 
Sears, J. H. Trip through the Jotunheim 

Mountains, Norway, 170. 
Secretary, corresponding, report of, for 

1886, 65; for 1887, 135; for 1888, 341. 
Secretary, recording, report of, for 1886, 

51 ; foV 1887, 134; for 1888, 338. 
Ship Rock, excursion to, 256. 
Shirane San, a visit to, 87. 
Sierra Blanca, 239, 261. 
Snow-shoe section, 81, 232. 
Social meeting, 167. 
Soglio, an Italian Swiss mountain hamlet, 

Thacher, Mrs. Q. W. Alpine flowers of 
Colorado, 284. 

Thanks, to Mr. C. D. Walcott, 83; to Mr. 
G. W. Kennard, 168: to Miss L. S. 
Davis, 169: to Mr. W. H. Peek, 852; 
to Mrs. Roberts, 352; to Brown's Lum- 
ber Co., 353; to Prof. £. Minoxzi, 854. 

Thurbbb, S. Elected corresponding sec- 
retary, 83; report of corresponding sec- 
retory for 1887, 185. 

Tifpant, F. Soglio, an lUlian Swiss 
mountain hamlet, 85. 

Todd, D. P. Ascent of Fuji San, Japan^ 

Topographical contributions, 121, 254. 

Topographical models, 84. 

Topography, report of councillor of, 72, 

Treasurer, report of, for 1886, 68; for 

1887, 140; ^r 1888, 346. 
Trustees, report of, for 1887, 142; for 

Tuckerman*s Ravine, excursion to, 161, 

Two in the alpine pastures, 184. 


Uphak^ W. Ascents of Camel's Hump 
and Lincoln Mountain, Yt., 319; gla- 
ciation of mountains in New England 
and New York, 291. 


Virginia, excursion to, 160. 

Votes passed, 81-83, 166-169, 352-355. 


Walcott, C. D. Grand Canon of the 
Colorado, 83. 

Walking-dress for ladies, 28. 

Wayside Inn, excursion to, 164. 

White Mountains, as a home for butter- 
flies, 13 ; meteorological observations in 
the, 83. 

White Sulphur Springs, excnrsion to, 160. 

Whitxkt, J. D. Landscape and its in- 
terpretation, 85. 

Williams, W. Climbing Mt. St. EIias,329. 

Wilson's Peak, Cal., ascent of, 352. 

Winter excursions to Jackson, 170, 208, 
257, 856. 

Wissahissick Pond^excursion to, 254. 

WiTHGKLX, 6. H. Vicinity of Mt.Ktaadn, 

Wright, 6. F. A month with an Alaskan 
glacier, 166. 

Yellowstone National Park, 171; trip on 

horseback through, 356. 
Tpeilon Peak, 175.